


The Emperor's Inexplicable Escapade - Redux

by mozarteffect



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney Fusion, Based on The Emperor's New Groove, Comedy, F/M, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Little a plot as a treat, Rewrite, Some OOC, Some Plot, Vegeta you gotta learn to not be a selfish dick sorry, yes I am still dead serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozarteffect/pseuds/mozarteffect
Summary: (Rewrite of the previous work see note inside)Emperor Vegeta was doing fine, he thought, everything was going his way.Until the night of his 30th birthday when he got turned into a monkey by his scheming adviser, Frieza.Now he's stuck with some tacky peasants (a clown and a vulgar woman) trying to get his proper form and his throne back before anything bad happens.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I start off a lot of notes with so, I wanna try and not do that, let me try this:
> 
> Anybody who read the previous work, I'm sorry, it sucked, please forget you read it because it sucked so much. I felt pressured to finish it because I wanted to focus on busting through writers' block in a timely fashion since I can be a long-winded writer, looked at the finished product and said, "Wow, I hate this."
> 
> Then I deleted it, but I still liked the idea of having something like this (and really doing a Disney themed series in general, yes I want to do more, yes they won't be what you expect) and decided to try again by taking some of the skeleton but rewriting about ninety percent of it. This time with more humor, less lack of focus, still some Disney-esque angst but not a whole lot. Or at least I'll try for not a whole lot. Anyway, here it goes again.

_Once upon a time on a distant planet, several alien races lived together in harmony. Nobody had to worry about things like "battle power" or ki techniques, or even life or death tournaments arranged by bored and irresponsible gods._

_If you mentioned a thing like that to anybody living on that planet, they would probably look at you like you were crazy._

_No, the aliens of that planet relied on technology and the rule of their_ extremely _benevolent emperor._

 _—Blah blah blah, you're not here for backstory, right? You're here to hear about how_ my _life got ruined through no fault of my own and I ended up pathetically sitting in the rain as a_ monkey _of all things._

 _I am Vegeta,_ Emperor _Vegeta. Since this is a_ story _we'll switch over to a more official narrator to explain while I try to sort out my current situation._

* * *

To say Emperor Vegeta woke up on the wrong side of the bed would be an understatement. Every which way and every day was _wrong_ to him, it had been wrong since the passing of his parents and his coronation as the sole ruler of the planet at the tender age of 17.

He was approaching 30 now and still didn't feel like he had grown into anything about the role but being cynical and crueler. Sure, he had never lacked for anything, he always got what he wanted and had learned to expect it from the world. But what else? He hardly even left his palace to interact with the citizens outside, really most of the time Vegeta would rather _never_ talk to anybody.

Unfortunately, there were people he _had_ to talk to, like his adviser Frieza—an Arcosian he didn't trust as far as he could throw (and he could throw the lizard quite far) but kept around since his role had been in place since his father's rule.

In Vegeta's opinion, Frieza's hideous appearance was proof that Arcosians were the result of _someone_ doing something inappropriate with dinosaurs. He ignored any history saying otherwise that Arcosians migrated to the planet just the same as the Saiyans did and the humans. He ignored quite a lot of history, like about Saiyans themselves allegedly having tails and more animalistic traits before evolving out of them—it sounded ridiculous, monkeys? No way.

"For the _last_ time, I can dress myself!" he growled to the servants knocking at his door before slamming it shut. Putting on the regalia of the Emperor every day was a pain in the ass, but Vegeta would still rather do it himself and told the servants so for the past 13 years since his ascension to the throne (go figure, lucky _thirteen_ ). He sighed as he pulled on the black and gold chest plate over his blue shirt and attached the white drapery over his blue pants mechanically, then attached the red cape to his armor, _then_ pulled on his white gloves and boots. _God it feels like it takes longer and longer to do this every day!_ Vegeta mentally grumbled, taking out the amulet left behind by his father and putting it on.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked exhausted and still not the man his father was. His father had a beard and was a sterner, imposing figure. Vegeta could barely grow a mustache passably even at his age. His face was, aggravatingly, much softer no matter how much he frowned and scowled where his father had sharper cheekbones and looked like he could kill with a glare.

 _And what is with_ this _? This stupid—what is it, a robe?_ Vegeta thought, patting at the drapery. _It just gets in the way when I walk!_ He wished he could tear it off but reminded himself of one of the few _good_ pieces of advice Frieza ever gave—"You have to _look_ the part of an Emperor at all times, my liege."

He would deal with it.

What he would _not_ deal with was his right-hand man Nappa waiting at the door with a binder full of eligible women, insisting _again_ he had to pick a woman to be his Empress so he could beget an heir.

"Hell no, Nappa," he growled, smacking the binder out of his hands as he stomped past the big burly Saiyan. "I'm _not_ getting married, not now, not ever!"

He would rather shove hot pokers in his eyes than ever deal with one of the sniveling primping princesses from other countries, as he told him again and _again_.

"You're being unfair, my liege," Nappa pointed out as he hustled to fall into step with him after picking up the scattered files. "Not _all_ women are like that—it just happens to be a trend with princesses because—"

"Because their backwards countries don't seek to educate their princesses to be anything but someone's wife, I _know_ , and I'm not going to humor that shit for a second, Nappa." Vegeta directed a glare at him, appropriately threatening. " _Drop it_ , I'm not getting married."

"You're not getting any younger, Vegeta," the older Saiyan said, dropping the formality for just a moment. (A frequent mistake that Nappa felt entitled to since he had been Vegeta's caretaker for years.) "Is it the princess thing? Then why don't we just find a regular woman and have a royal consort instead?"

"I would not sully my bloodline with some _commoner_ ," Vegeta sneered, much to Nappa's chagrin. "You're already pushing it with including _non-Saiyans_ in your list."

He would rather stay chaste for the rest of his days than copulate with an Arcosian, for example. He thought very rarely of the act but _at least_ would want a partner that looked similar to his species if not his species _period_. (If the object was producing an heir, then _why_ an Arcosian?!)

"You're just not going to let anybody win in this scenario, are you?" he sighed.

"Of course not, the only winner that's allowed is _me_."

Vegeta had bigger things to consider than ridiculous marriage prospects anyway, he pushed past Nappa into his throne room ( _blah blah blah, very impressive, high ceiling, stained glass—_ he grumbled mentally) where he found another unpleasant surprise. Frieza, the foul pink and purple lizard, was sitting his disgusting carapace ( _should be a carcass_ ) on _Vegeta's_ throne while addressing some commoners that had requested an audience with him.

 _Not_ the ones Vegeta wanted to meet for his bigger plans, but _Frieza_ was an even bigger issue than that.

"Frieza, what have we said about sitting on my throne?" he growled, interrupting what seemed to be a very distressing conversation between the adviser and the peasants.

Frieza jolted up from the throne like a fire was lit under his backside, chuckling nervously as he sweated and bowed before him. The people appropriately turned and bowed themselves, muttering greetings of "your Imperial Majesty" and so on.

"M-my liege!" Frieza stammered. "I was just…err, handling some minor issues that these peasants had with, eh…what was it again?" he asked them, canting his head to the side.

"Err…we haven't received food in our shipments lately, Lord Frieza," a man whimpered back.

"Oh, right, _that_ ," Frieza scoffed, waving his hand.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, suspicious as always when it came to Frieza. "And why haven't they, Frieza?" he asked, affecting an air of calm but really wanting to strangle the lizard for possibly doing something underhanded to wreck his subjects' perception of him.

"Um!" Frieza was back to sycophant mode, shuffling away from the throne entirely. "Just—just a paperwork mix-up! I'll see to it that it's fixed right away!"

"You'd better," Vegeta growled. "Nappa, make sure it's actually done _right_ ," he jerked his head towards the retreating form of the Arcosian, which Nappa dutifully followed after. "As for you," he directed his attention back to the peasants. "I'll see to it that you receive a store of food to hold you over until this _mistake_ is fixed."

"Th-thank you, Imperial Majesty!" they wibbled back.

 _Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, I'm incredibly great and merciful, now_ get out of here _, I have other things to do,_ Vegeta thought with a roll of his eyes as he marched to his throne and sat down.

…Ew. It was still warm from Frieza. Vegeta immediately stood back up to grab a disinfectant and towels from behind his throne, obsessively cleaning the seat to be sure the _Frieza germs_ were gone.

"Anyway," he said, settling back in. "What's the status on things with Mount Paozu?"

One of his other officials, Paragus, bowed at the waist as he stepped forward. "Your Imperial Majesty, the citizens of Paozu have said that the man who owned the property passed away."

"All right. Then what's the hold up from our acquirement of it?" he replied, already feeling the headache coming on from the potential bullshit inherent.

"Well, he had a family, you see, and the ownership was transferred over to his daughter and her husband. It's, uh, a long story but somehow he had ended up adopting a Saiyan girl a couple of years ago and—"

"Okay, I don't need the boring backstory, get to the _point_ ," Vegeta snarled, rapping his fingers on the arm rest of his throne.

Paragus stuttered, shuffling some papers rapidly. "I—wh-what I mean to say is, Ms. Gine sent over her son to discuss things with you, t-today."

"All right. Send him to the meeting room, then," Vegeta sighed, pushing himself up from the throne to head to said room.

 _This palace is too fucking big, I need to get a hover vehicle to make it through before sunset,_ he grumbled to himself, breezing past the bowing and scraping servants to the great big double doors of his meeting room.

His father had the Emperor's side of the meeting room specifically installed with gigantic doors for a more dramatic effect when he shoved them open and strode in. Vegeta could see the value in making an entrance some days, but today it only added to the list of Things That Are Pissing Vegeta Off.

The Saiyan was standing on the other end of the long table waiting for him—no, actually, he realized there was another person with him. Another Saiyan? Paragus had not mentioned anybody coming along _with_ the son. Vegeta looked down at them, or as much as he could considering he wasn't exactly the tallest person around (he didn't inherit his father's imposing height either).

He realized as he looked upon them the other commoner _wasn't_ a Saiyan—or at least she couldn't have been with the long, decidedly _straight and blue_ hair pulled up in a ponytail and the equally blue and suspicious eyes glaring at him. They were about the same height, he managed to gauge even from so far away, and he had to admit she was a pretty little thing for a human peasant.

…But still a peasant. Still a _human_. The plain clothing more suited for working and the slight wear on her gloves showed as much for her low status and inferior species.

The man, however, looked appropriately like a Saiyan with ridiculous spiky black hair that stuck out in all directions. He was taller than her (and Vegeta) by a head and shoulders and stood with his hands resting on the belt tied around his waist. Vegeta gave a cursory glance to be sure he didn't have weapons, though it didn't seem like it, he only had a pole poking out of a case he had secured over his blue kimono top.

The man seemed to mistake his glance for a greeting as he got a _ridiculously_ happy grin on his face while the woman continued to regard him with suspicion. "Hi!" the man chirped, placing his palms together and bowing at the waist politely. "Pleased to meet you, Impervious Magister, my name's Son Goku!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the file—"Your name here says 'Kakarot'," he replied, ignoring the woman correcting Kakarot on his misuse of Vegeta's title.

"Oh, everybody calls me Goku, Kakarot is just a formal Saiyan name," he explained with an easygoing laugh.

The carefree tone already annoyed the hell out of Vegeta but he would soldier on as he looked at the file on the woman—he was surprised to find there was none. He brushed it off as everyday incompetence on Nappa's part.

"Goku, we're not here to _chat_ ," she hissed at him, grabbing his ear and pulling on it. "His Imperial Majesty wanted to discuss Mount Paozu."

"Of course!" Kakarot chuckled, now slightly nervous at being scolded. "This model you have here is real neat, it looks just like it!" he praised, indicating the model that Nappa had meticulously built over the past couple of weeks.

"Uh-huh…" He really _hated_ engaging in small talk, with peasants or not. He would even ignore that the woman failed to bow and properly greet him as the Emperor if it meant getting the ray of sunshine known as Kakarot out of here as quickly as possible. Vegeta stepped over to the side Kakarot and the woman were standing on, Kakarot smiled while she stepped back with a scowl, clearly not wanting to be too close. "Tell me, which is the best spot in Paozu?" he asked affecting a friendly tone.

_So I can build my new base in the most strategic location._

"Right here!" Kakarot answered, pointing at a high point in the forested area. A small hut had been replicated there. "This is where I live, me 'n the rest of the village—you can see the sun rising just right over the countryside from here. It's like a musical, right Bulma?"

"You mean the mountains sing," Bulma answered dully.

"Yeah, that too!"

 _Mountains cannot_ sing _, god, peasants are so corny_. "Okay." Vegeta turned a smile to them, knowing how fake it looked but not caring at all. "Thank you that will be all."

Bulma raised a skeptical brow at him, her frown deepening. "What are you planning to do with our home?"

"Well, there's the sticky part of Kakarot's family owning the mountain," Vegeta said, his smile turning icy and slightly feral. "But I'm sure you understand, I'm the Emperor and I'll do as I damn well please, _including_ building my next base right on this _perfect spot_ on Paozu."

"But!" Kakarot interjected, looking shocked and dismayed as he reached out to touch Vegeta's arm. "That's our home! We've lived there for ages, you can't just—"

"Excuse me?" Vegeta turned to the taller man, grasping his wrist and twisting it sharply away from him. "I believe you didn't hear me correctly. _I am the Emperor_ and I will do as I please. Your presence is no longer required here, remove yourself from my palace before I have you _escorted_ out."

Kakarot winced in pain, gritting his teeth, still looking like he wanted to fight. Vegeta almost hoped he would for a moment, unfortunately the woman intervened by physically standing between them to push Kakarot back. "Goku, _stop_!" she pleaded with the man. "You're going to get in serious trouble if you try to fight, your parents told you _not_ to, remember?"

The Saiyan sighed, relaxing his stance, a stern and somber expression remaining as he looked at Bulma. "…Yeah. Sorry, Bulma." He turned away, catching her by the wrist to pull her with him. "It was nice meeting you, Emperor."

Bulma turned a glare to Vegeta over her shoulder, the look alone showed all of her treacherous thoughts about where she wished he would go or what awful thing would happen for retribution. He smirked back, amused despite himself at the fiery defiance of the woman. _It certainly_ wasn't _nice meeting you, bastard,_ her look said.

 _I hope I never have to see you dirty peasants again,_ he thought back with his arrogant expression.

…So then why did he hear somebody coming back _in_ to the room a few seconds after they left? _She_ appeared again, closing the door behind her and staring at him with a look of contempt.

 _What the hell?_ Vegeta thought, resisting the urge to blink stupidly in befuddlement as the woman marched right.

Into.

His.

Space.

She poked him in the chest.

_What the HELL!?_

* * *

_She knows she can't do that, doesn't she?! She's a peasant! Nobody is allowed to touch the Emperor ever! Oh but don't worry, that was only the_ beginning _of the bullshit that was waiting for me._

* * *

"I'm not going to let you get away with this," she said, a challenge in her eyes. "I'm going to fight you and I'm going to win."

"Oh, _really_?" Vegeta sneered, trying to smooth his composure back to properly haughty though her aggressiveness well and truly shocked him. "What can _you_ do, exactly?"

The woman only scoffed, whipping around so suddenly her ponytail smacked him in the face. "Much _more_ than you'll ever know until it's _too late_."

* * *

_THAT'S ILLEGAL!_

_Well maybe not yet but I'm fully capable of_ making _it illegal!_

* * *

Vegeta stood in stunned silence as the woman sauntered out of the room, realizing with some discomfort that her scent was unusually pleasant and lingered around. It took a moment for him to shake himself out of the daze she brought about and leave like he had intended to, realizing faintly he should have immediately ordered her arrest for…hitting? Him?

* * *

_I guess it doesn't actually count if it's just hair, does it? Don't tell anybody I said this or I'll have you executed but I was_ very _mixed up at that point—I wasn't sure whether to chase after her and demand she marry me or just pretend that whole_ thing _didn't happen. Saiyan instincts for being attracted to strong-willed people, however, would not defeat me that day._

 _Frieza would, though, him and his_ stupid _"secret" lab. I wasn't present for the whole debacle that led up to me getting in this sorry state but I think it went something like this._

* * *

"That _boy_ is getting far too out of hand," Frieza sneered as he stomped down the stairs to the underground labs with Nappa and his usual entourage. "I can't believe his attitude—we practically _raised_ him and he treats us like—"

"His servants?" Nappa interrupted. "Because we kind of are his servants. Also he's not a boy, he's 30 now. _He_ might have forgotten it's his birthday, but I didn't."

"Yes, _exactly_ ," Frieza hissed malevolently, stopping at a very impressive-looking switch panel in the dark enclosure. "Pull the lever, Zarbon," he ordered his pretty-boy righthand.

The turquoise-skinned alien appropriately muttered affirmatives and pulled the lever.

Nappa paused, looking at the other lever left untouched. _Wait,_ he thought, _isn't that the—_

 _"—WRONG LEVERRRRRR—!!"_ Frieza screeched as he abruptly fell through a hole that opened up from under him, sending him crashing down into the sewage below.

"Oops," Nappa heard Zarbon mumble, pressing a hand to his mouth while Dodoria suppressed chortles.

It took a moment until they heard Frieza stomping back up the stairs— _STOMP (slap) STOMP (slap)_ —and back into the room, now wet and inexplicably with a crocodile biting down on his tail. "Why do we even _have_ that lever?!" he complained, slapping the reptile away with a shrill yelp from said creature.

"Beats me," the old Saiyan said with a shrug.

It took some doing before they actually made it down to the labs, all the way Nappa resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Frieza _continuing_ with complaining about how Vegeta was an ungrateful brat after how valuable he had been. Valuable? Yeah, right, Nappa scoffed to himself. Vegeta might have missed it, wrapped up in his own self like he tended to, but Nappa being older and wiser had strong suspicions that any opposition from insurgents were organized and staged by Frieza. The lizard hid it _extremely_ well and it disgusted Nappa deeply.

Then why did he continue associating with Frieza? Well…he was waiting for the Arcosian to slip up.

And not in the "slipping on freshly waxed floors" way, which he had before, and while that was hilarious it wasn't what Nappa was waiting for.

 _"You must act as soon as he shows his hand,"_ his shoulder angel would always tell him.

His shoulder devil disagreed every time, lazily groaning: _"That sounds boring. Why not just_ work _with Frieza? Vegeta has been a total brat since his parents died!_ He's _why we're bald now, remember?"_

Nappa tried not to engage either of them in discussion when other people were around, he would get funny looks.

It seemed what the old Saiyan was waiting for was getting closer as Frieza led his entourage to a more closed-off area of the laboratories. (He noted how strangely dark and gothic the whole atmosphere had gotten since Vegeta the third's old contract scientist died. _Seriously, Frieza, way to live up to the stereotype!_ he thought with exasperation.)

"It's Vegeta's birthday indeed, Nappa," Frieza intoned ominously, opening a cabinet to expose a line of unusual chemicals in vials.

Ah, these things, Frieza's chemicals, the chemicals Frieza creates specifically to—actually, Nappa had no clue _why_ Frieza made them but he suspected it was for something bad.

Nappa's suspicion was confirmed when Frieza turned back to him with a sharp grin. "You're going to make a cake for him this year again, aren't you?"

"Of course, I do every year!" he confirmed, nodding energetically. "I was thinking this year of cutting down on fondant, but—"

"Shut up, Nappa," Frieza clipped. "I don't care about your _baking prowess_."

(The Saiyan scowled while Zarbon and Dodoria snickered behind him.)

The lizard continued, "I care about a special ingredient you will be adding to the Emperor's cake. It's a poison, untraceable and fast acting. Just like his dear parents, Vegeta will suffer a sudden illness and unfortunately pass on."

 _Oh_. Yep, this was the slip-up Nappa had been waiting for. He was…surprised Frieza just…laid it all out there like that, really. Seemed a bit ill-advised.

Regardless Frieza went on, talking about how Nappa would slip it into the cake and Vegeta would die within the hour, leaving the lizard to take over the throne and _rule the empiiiire_ as he put it. He was the direct most obvious choice after Vegeta's death since Tarble had abdicated and Vegeta had refused to get married (despite Nappa's best efforts! Vegeta was just too stubborn!) He bit his knuckles as Frieza left with a shrill cackle, Zarbon and Dodoria appropriately following him like the devoted lapdogs they were.

"What do I do now?" he mumbled to himself, casting a glance to the poison he had been directed to use. He only knew that once Vegeta _died_ and without Tarble or any heir of Vegeta's own, Nappa was the highest-ranking officer to take over despite Frieza's assertation. The lizard had no clue that Vegeta the third had put that into place since he didn't trust his advisor (Nappa _said_ he should fire him but _noooo_ ). He would never let Frieza take over the throne, but…he didn't want Vegeta to die…

 _"You must tell Vegeta immediately!"_ his angel urged.

 _"Nah, you should straight up poison him,"_ his devil chortled.

 _"Don't tell him to do such things, Vegeta is like a son to him!"_ the angel scolded.

The devil counteracted with standing on his hands. Nappa had no idea what it had to do with the conversation, but as he deliberated his eyes automatically scanned the line of bottles. They were all labeled with pictures, where Frieza pointed him to the one that had a skull on it his eyes landed on…

A monkey? He tilted his head, trying to parse the picture. "Whoever did this can't draw," he said first.

 _"Oh yeah, that_ sucks _, haha, you could totally bend it and make it look like a skull though,"_ the devil said offhand.

 _…Hey, now there's an idea,_ Nappa thought, now playing with the label until it bent.

 _"Wait—is that a thing you're allowed to do?!"_ the angel protested at the devil. _"I thought_ I _was the one who was supposed to give good solutions?"_

Hours later Nappa found himself scurrying around trying to get things prepared for tonight and what would be the departure of Emperor Vegeta. He prepared the ingredients (and the extra special one that while he didn't know what it did, it didn't have a skull therefore wasn't _as_ bad), put up the recipe he wanted to use, and wrote a letter to leave with Vegeta whatever happened next.

_Vegeta,_

_This is serious shit. Frieza conspired to poison you and I'm pretty sure he admitted that he did it to your parents, too._

_Don't worry, I got the moron on recording confessing._

_Whatever you do, come back safely and kick Frieza's ass, okay?_

_Happy birthday! (Find yourself a nice girl out there!)_

_Love,_

_Nappa_

"Yeah, that'll work," he mumbled to himself.

"Nappa!" Frieza barked, "Have you done it?"

"Done what?" Nappa affected a stupid tone, stashing away the letter in his apron to look at Frieza.

"Put _it_ in your mix," Frieza hissed, trying to speak in low tones.

"It?" Nappa considered. "Oh, yeah, the _poison_ , right? The poison for Vegeta, the poison specifically made to kill Vegeta."

(Frieza ground his teeth audibly.)

"Vegeta's poison." Nappa paused, pressing his hands together. "…That poison?"

" _Yes_ , that poison!" the lizard snapped back.

"Yuh."

"Then why did you--?! Ugh, never mind!" Frieza huffed and turned away abruptly, storming off.

* * *

_At least I_ think _that's how it happened, Nappa is the type to just_ do _things like that for no reason. He's stupid that way._

* * *

"The building of my next base on Paozu will proceed," Vegeta said during dinner that night, refusing to let Nappa light candles on the cake let alone "make a wish" like one usually would.

"Oh, I see, how wonderful for you, my liege," Frieza tittered, not so subtly gesturing to Nappa with a look to offer a slice of cake to Vegeta.

"The peasants were actually ready to fight me, I think," Vegeta chuckled, a ghost of a smile coming to his face. "The _buffoon_ named Kakarot for certain. The woman…"

"My liege," Nappa interrupted, placing the slice of cake before him.

Vegeta wrinkled his nose—he hated sweet things, so Nappa opted for a spicy chocolate cake. He was glad at least the "poison" wouldn't interfere with the taste, even if the young Emperor would be the only one eating it.

"Woman?" Nappa continued with a meaningful look. "Was she cute?"

"Is that all you think about, Nappa?" Vegeta spat distastefully, prodding at the cake with his fork. "She was…attractive, I'll say that much. But a _peasant_ , I'll remind you, not to mention a _human_ —even worse."

"Of course, my liege," the old Saiyan sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Damn, the way he paused seemed significant, almost like there was going to be a twist there, he forgot that Vegeta was a prude in addition to a total shut-in.

Frieza didn't resist such a motion, rolling his eyes behind Vegeta's back. _At least we know he hasn't procreated_ , he mouthed at Nappa, who was surprised at himself that he even managed to read lips so accurately.

"Well, you can't blame me for asking, can you? Admitting she's attractive is more than you've ever done before," he found himself blurting out to make an excuse to break eye contact with Frieza.

"Don't you have spinach puffs to check on, Nappa?" Vegeta snorted.

"No, not tonight, you said you didn't like those," Nappa answered despite knowing it was meant to be a distraction and not a legitimate question. He didn't realize he was holding his breath _waiting_ to see what happened next until Vegeta took the bite.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Commented that actually, the cake wasn't horrible. "Good work, Nappa."

…Nothing?

Frieza's eyes widened, he looked at Nappa with alarm, Nappa only shrugged with the barest hint of movement.

Vegeta continued talking, eating some more cake, gesturing as he did, tail swaying—

_Wait. TAIL?_

Nappa blinked, staring, trying not to gape at the Emperor who now had a _tail_ that was waving back and forth as he talked. Vegeta was so busy talking he didn't notice his own transformation into a…a…

Frieza jabbed at his neck when the transformation finished, knocking out Vegeta cold. "A _monkey!?_ " the Arcosian shrieked. "He's supposed to be _dead!_ "

Nappa, now staring at Vegeta's unconscious and newly simian form in open-mouthed horror, tried to compose himself. "Yeah…weird…" he mumbled, trying (possibly failing) at sounding surprised the younger Saiyan wasn't dead.

"Dammit!" Frieza cursed, balling his hands into fists, tail lashing. "Well…well! We can—we can still save this—Nappa!" He jabbed Nappa in the chest. "Take him out _back_ and _finish the job_."

"R…right…"

Now there he was, dragging the unconscious body of a monkey that _was_ the Emperor, still dressed in his regalia. Only now the Emperor had a note tucked into his armor and Nappa was desperately trying to find a _safe_ place he could be deposited.

"What now, what now…" he mumbled, looking around the darkened streets.

* * *

_Ugh, I'm glad I was unconscious for this part because—_

* * *

Nappa slid himself along the wall, humming to himself despite the fact that his bulk and the noise would alert anybody to him.

* * *

_Nappa has this_ thing _about having a theme song!? I don't get it! Hurry up, Nappa just put me in the trunk and_ go _!_

* * *

_There!_ He spotted the trunk of a flying vehicle at the end of the street. Nobody seemed to be there yet. He snuck over as quietly as he could, depositing Vegeta inside and tucking him among the luggage.

"Be safe, Vegeta," he murmured. "Come back soon and kick Frieza's ass."

 _"Aw yeah, now we can coolly exit!"_ his shoulder devil crowed as Nappa stepped backward to turn around and leave.

Until he smacked into wall.

"Ouch! Stupid wall threw off my groove!" he grumbled to himself, rubbing his smarting nose as he turned _the other way_ and exited the scene before whoever owned the car came back.

* * *

As it happened, the car belonged to two dejected friends that were packing up to return home to Mount Paozu.

"Are you sure we can't just go back and talk t'him?" Goku protested as Bulma decisively packed the final back and shut the trunk. "Maybe—"

" _Save_ it, Goku," Bulma snapped, glaring at him. "He won't listen, he can't be reasoned with. That arrogant son of a bitch doesn't have a heart. He's just like Vegeta the third, who if you'll recall _razed_ villages to create his bases. At least we got the _option_ of being warned before it happened to us."

 _Again_ on her part was implied but not said aloud. Goku frowned, knowing that the topic was extremely painful for her but at the same time… "Bulma…it's our home. We gotta fight for our home."

She paused, glancing at him. It was a loaded look, he knew, Bulma had her own plans in mind that—once again—she was hiding from him. He didn't like when she did that, he wished ardently that she would let him _help_ her with those crazy schemes she would come up with. If Bulma had intentions of doing something to oppose the Emperor, of course Goku wanted to help! He didn't want her to get arrested and killed for treason—which she would, even if what the Emperor was doing was wrong!

But, Bulma would never allow him to help her. She wanted to protect him just as much as he her.

He sighed instead, "Well…Chi-Chi sure ain't gonna be happy about this."

"Don't worry. I'll handle it, I don't want Chi-Chi worrying about a thing, especially with that baby on the way," Bulma replied with a bittersweet smile. "Come on, I'll drive us. Let's go home, Goku."

"Okay…"

As they sat down in the car, Goku frowned. "Hey, did ya buy somethin' while we were here?"

"No, why?" Bulma asked, giving him a curious look while she started the car.

"It feels kinda…lower to the ground than usual. The car, I mean."

"It's probably just city gravity, you know how that is."

Goku's frown deepened, realizing a strange feeling was brewing in his gut. "Yeah…I guess."

* * *

Vegeta, unbeknownst to either of them, slept peacefully and dreamlessly, unaware that he was in for a rude awakening.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Local Emperor doesn't want to get wrapped up in sob stories.
> 
> He discovers to his dismay that his LIFE is a sob story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two, this is where the bigger rewrites come in, there's still some diversion from the base plot of Emperor's New Groove because WRITING.

_Hey, peons, don't get it twisted, even though the story is focusing on those ungrateful peasants right now, it's still about me, all right? I'm still_ there _in the trunk of their car._

_Keep that in mind while you sit through their sappy nonsense._

* * *

Bulma eased the car down for a landing some distance from Paozu village, watching it wistfully for a moment before shutting down the vehicle entirely. She stayed there for another long moment with her hands on the wheel, periodically gripping and releasing it as she thought and thought and thought about what had happened.

 _I'm losing my home again,_ she realized, that painful grief she hid behind a front of pride and liveliness bubbling up. _I need to think of something quick to fight back or else I will lose my home again, and more people I love will get hurt._

Years ago, she remembered, her family—the humble Briefs—lived in a larger compound to the West. It was somewhat blurry, filtered through the brain of a five-year-old child and buried by the horror of what she had witnessed. Yet Bulma remembered she, her parents, and her sister were all happy in their silly little dome-shaped house with their animals and with their lives.

Not to say they weren't happy now and Bulma wasn't grateful that they all survived. If the incident _hadn't_ happened then they wouldn't have run into Bardock and Son Gohan. Little by little, the family that came together and welcomed the Briefs into _their_ home until they got back on their feet became their whole world. Even though they no longer had the prestige they once did and couldn't exactly reemerge for risk of attracting trouble, they were eternally grateful…Bulma _had_ to pay them back somehow. _Even if I'm risking my own life here, which I'm_ not _a fan of—I'd love to wipe the smirk off that arrogant asshole's face._

"Bulma?" Goku's voice broke into her thoughts, she felt his large hand weigh onto her shoulder, bringing her back out of the reverie of bad memories. "Bulma? Are ya feelin' okay?"

She forced a smile just for him, just for her messy-haired best friend-slash-little brother that always followed her lead ever since they were young. "Of course I am, silly, I'm just thinking. You know me, always have to have a plan going on."

He frowned disbelievingly, of course, Goku's own mind was often taken for granted since he tended to be more naïve and straightforward in his thoughts, but Goku could _read_ people like no other. Even better than Bulma could, whose view was clouded by cynical distrust of others. He always knew when something was _wrong_ but never pushed until someone was ready to talk. He sighed, shaking his head. "Bulma, we're gonna make it through this. Maybe we can talk to the Emperor again? Maybe he can be reasoned with?"

Bulma groaned, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. " _Don't_ start that again, he _can't_ be reasoned with—he's a bastard, cruel, uncaring. He's just plain _evil_ , do you get it?"

"I didn't get that at all from him," Goku said firmly. "And you didn't either. Y'just don't wanna see it because you don't trust the Empire. I think he's lonely."

 _Lonely_ , Bulma rolled her eyes. "I think I don't want to talk about him anymore. Come on, let's just unpack the car."

"Okay, Bulma…okay."

* * *

_"…I think he's lonely."_

An unusually familiar yet not voice flitted its way into his hearing as Vegeta half-woke, finding himself in total darkness. _What the hell?_ Vegeta's sleepy mind thought, his limbs feeling like they were made of lead as he tried to move. _Where am I?_ It in no way felt like his bed, too hard and smelled of something _country_.

Come to think of it, he could smell a great many things—like a _farm_ , what was a farm doing inside the palace?

The sudden burst of light from _something_ opening up made him snap his eyes shut, almost protesting vocally at the light and finding he couldn't speak. He caught snatches of movement in the form of shadows against his closed eyes, objects moving around him and lessening the weight of…where _was_ he? The back of a vehicle?

"Hey, Bulma!" an all-too-chipper voice that immediately grated on his nerves called. "Y'said ya didn't buy anything while we were in the city? Then what's this plush doin' here?"

 _Plush?_ Vegeta felt strong hands gripping and pulling him out of the enclosed space. He kept his eyes shut stubbornly though instinct immediately made him want to protest being _manhandled_ like he was _luggage_. Why did he feel so _small_? Well—smaller than usual—something wasn't _right_ about how he was feeling.

"I didn't…?" the voice of a woman sounded in, a strangely pleasing sound on his suddenly more sensitive ears. "That's not mine—wow, it's kind of a big one. Kinda ugly-cute…and it's wearing the Emperor's clothes? How rude. Are you sure _you_ didn't get that, Goku?"

 _Ugly-cute?_ Vegeta thought angrily. _I am not cute_ or _ugly!_

"I dunno, maybe it's a play on Saiyans?" the man's voice replied. "All those books Dad's got say—"

 _Yes I_ know _what the books say about Saiyan history,_ Vegeta grumbled to himself. _But why do you keep talking about me like I'm—?_

"It's still really rude, though…a monkey dressed like the Emperor?"

_A MONKEY?_

He couldn't help it, his eyes snapped open, pupils shrinking rapidly at the rising sun. The shriek of a woman and being _dropped_ suddenly with a startled cry from the man _woke him up_ quite a bit.

"A _monkey!?_ " Vegeta snarled, refocusing his eyes and realizing that the people who had him now were the two _peasants_. "I am not a—you! I know you two imbeciles! You _dare_ abduct _me_? The _Emperor_?"

Yes, that must have been what was going on! They abducted him to take revenge for wanting to demolish their _stupid home_ and build his base! The woman _did_ threaten him, after all!

"What…?" the woman stammered, staring at him in open-mouthed shock for a moment before squinting as though seeing him for the first time. "Emperor Vegeta…?"

" _Yes_?" Vegeta snapped impatiently, bewildered and annoyed by her feigned confusion. "Who _else_ would it be?"

She exchanged a look with Kakarot, both appearing baffled. She nodded to him and he turned to dig into one of the bags they had before pulling out a mirror. "Uh, so…" Kakarot said turning back around and holding the mirror up to Vegeta's face. "Something happened to ya, it looks like?"

Vegeta didn't recognize himself, literally. It _wasn't_ him—it was some manner of beast, of _monkey_ staring back at him—but it had his eyes, it had his hairline, its fur on the top of his head where his hair would be _stood up_ similarly to his hair. But—but that—"Th-that can't be _me_!" he shouted, gripping his face and realizing to his horror the monkey's paws in the mirror were doing the same thing. "No! I'm—I'm a _monkey_?!" he wailed, "Why did you peasants _do this_ to _me_?! I'm _hideous_!"

"Are you crazy?!" Bulma shouted back at him, offended. " _We_ didn't do this! We're not _magicians_ , we're just—"

"Hey, calm down, Bulma," Kakarot tried to soothe her and Vegeta at the same time. "And Vegeta, you too, let's just—"

" _No_ , take me back!" Vegeta demanded, sitting upright and pointing at them. "Take me back to the palace! Frieza has a section in the labs where he experiments with chemicals and things, _he'll_ fix this and I'll have you two _arrested_ for doing this to me!"

"Hey, _idiot_ ," Bulma snarled back, clenching her fists. "Put the pieces together, would ya? _Your adviser has a lab where he experiments with chemicals?_ And suddenly you're a monkey? But okay, sure, _we're_ the ones that did this, huh? You elitist asshole, fucking dipshit," she broke off into more muttered curses and insults.

…Oh. Oh, damn.

Vegeta sat there feeling rather dumb for not realizing it sooner.

The last thing he remembered was eating a cake, and…

Something was poking at him inside of his armor. He reached inside and pulled out a note.

"It's from Nappa," he said more to himself rather than the commoners as he read it.

 _…Wh-what the hell,_ Frieza _did this to me! He was trying to_ kill _me!_

The weight of all of what was in the note, Frieza's treachery and the admittance that he was the reason his parents were dead, bore down heavily upon Vegeta. He almost wanted to sit there and stare up at the darkening clouds in the sky with abject despair.

…Or he would have if he wasn't _so fucking mad_.

"That _slimy lizard!_ " Vegeta growled, crumpling up the note in his hands. "He—he murdered my parents! And he tried to murder _me_! He's probably taking over the Empire right now, I _have_ to go back!"

He had been saying this insistently to the two peasants, hoping they would immediately be brought to heel and eagerly offer to take him back. It was the least they could do, after all, to serve the Emperor.

They only stared back at him with indifference on Bulma's part and concern on Kakarot's.

 _"…Well?!"_ he barked at them. "Take me back! Now!"

"Why should we?" Bulma scoffed. "Whether it's you or Frieza, what difference does it make? You're both tyrants."

His jaw dropped at her declaration. "H-how _dare_ you! I'm not a tyrant!"

"Uh, you're gonna destroy our home to build a military base," Kakarot cut in, "And your dad before burned villages to the ground to create his own. So, um, yeah. Y'kinda are, your whole family is."

Was _that_ the perception the citizens had of him? Vegeta gaped at them, trying to mouth words in defense of himself. Nothing came, even as he thought _no! I'm not a tyrant! And my father never_ did _that to people! It was a misunderstanding! And how_ dare _you say that about Tarble and Mother! Who told you it was_ like that _?!_ Bulma and Kakarot evidently lost interest in talking to him as they resumed unpacking their car and left him there.

 _W…wait, come back!_ Vegeta's helpless thoughts sounded off. _Don't leave me alone here!_

As usual, the universe chose the best time to make things worse with a rumble of thunder overhead and the sun disappearing behind dark clouds. Rain began to pour down on Vegeta as he sat there in the dirt, _stunned_ at how abruptly his life had gone down the drain.

* * *

_And see, there you have it. None of this was my fault. I was a competent Emperor, everybody else just tried to ruin my life for_ no _reason—especially those ungrateful peasants and Frieza!_

_"No reason? Yeah, right, and I'm the lost Princess of Corona."_

_…Where? Who? Wait—what the hell, woman, when did you get back here?!_

_"I was just putting away my luggage, you moron, now stop daydreaming!"_

* * *

Bulma held the umbrella over him, looking down with a sigh. "Come on," she muttered. "Goku's house is closer. Come back in with me before you catch a cold."

She really shouldn't have been there. She should have just left him in the dust where he belonged—it really didn't matter, did it? Him, or Frieza, the Emperor was only a tyrant under a lot of fancy regalia. And it wasn't like he would show any gratitude for help given, he would only see it as being _served_ as he should have been in his own mind, elitist prick. And hadn't she sworn to get back at him for what he was threatening to do…?

Yet still, she looked down at the man now trapped in a de-evolved body, just a frail and lonely person that desperately needed help. The news that Frieza had murdered his parents struck an unexpected chord with her, an odd note of _sympathy_ that she wasn't sure where it welled up from. But…

In the end, Goku was right, as always, she _did_ get the sense that Vegeta was lonely and needed a friend, even if he would never see her as anything close to equal. It was an unusually familiar feeling to her, looking at someone and deciding that they needed a friend and that _she_ would be that friend.

He stumbled to his feet, or what accounted for them, on ungainly legs. Monkeys technically didn't usually walk upright, Vegeta must have never seen one in action before as he stubbornly tried to walk like a person would before falling forward on his front paws, knuckles to the ground.

He was a _bizarre_ sort of monkey when she looked at him—he had a tail, so yes, he was a monkey, but the body was more like some cross between a chimpanzee and a gorilla, creatures that were _apes,_ not to mention the pointed ears more akin to other species of monkey. She supposed in the end it didn't matter since they were all part of the primate family.

Why was she even _thinking_ about this? Bulma reached out for his hand and grabbed it to steady him. "Come on, moron, it'll take all day if you go at it alone," she groused, pulling him along to the house.

"Don't—don't tell me what to do!" he blustered back, probably would have been blushing if monkeys were capable of showing those signifiers of emotions. "And don't call me a moron, you peasant!"

"Is that all you've got?" Bulma challenged him with a smirk. "Peasant? You need to get new material—and my name is _Bulma_ , Emperor Asshole, _Bulma Briefs_."

He was silent for a moment, glaring shrewdly at her. "I don't care _what_ your name is," he eventually said in a dark voice. "You are beneath me."

Of course. Why was she trying to help him again? She should have just left him there to rot.

Oh well, not like things could get any worse whether or not she did help him. She would at least hear less scolding from her mom about being rude to guests if she did.

* * *

The press of the woman's hand on his was warm, oddly familiar, her name even more so. Bulma. Bulma? Where had he heard it before? It wasn't as though it was a _common_ name.

Vegeta frowned, reaching into the murky depths of his mind to grasp onto a memory of a girl looking at him from her place seated at a riverbank. _"My name is_ Bulma _,"_ she said to him. _"Not_ girl _or_ peasant _."_

He couldn't see her face. Why couldn't he remember what she looked like? That was…over twenty years ago, he guessed, that would explain why he couldn't remember.

 _"You are beneath me,"_ his own voice as a boy sneered back.

He kept coming back to visit that girl nonetheless. He didn't remember why. One day she scooted closer to him and…kissed him on the cheek.

_"I'm gonna miss you, Vegeta."_

_"What…? Where are you going, Bulma?"_

That part was mixed with a dream, he realized. He only saw fire after that.

He shook his head. Impossible. That girl was dead. She and her whole family, they were killed in the coup staged against his father. But if the woman _was_ the girl…that would explain why…

 _No, stop it!_ Vegeta scolded himself. _No getting yourself tangled up in other peoples' sob stories! Focus on yourself! The girl is_ dead _and you don't care about whatever the hell is going on with this woman!_

Bulma led him into the warmth of the modest house where there was already the noise of people talking. Kakarot appeared to be explaining what was going on to a very pregnant woman who was clutching her face with one hand and holding a frying pan with the other.

"—So Bulma and I are gonna bring the Emperor back to the city now," he finished.

"But you _just_ came back!" the woman groaned in reply. "And it already took so long, what if—"

"They are _going_ to take me back immediately!" Vegeta snarled, shocking the woman.

She screamed and brought down the frying pan onto his head, knocking him senseless very abruptly.

"Um…Chi-Chi?" he heard Kakarot's voice, though it sounded like he was listening through water. "That's the Emperor."

" _Oh_ ," Chi-Chi gasped.

He didn't know what else happened after that as he lost consciousness.

* * *

_Seriously, that's against the law!_

_Okay, so it's still not, but it still_ should _be! I hope that stupid knock didn't_ awaken _something inconvenient in me like, say, memories I repressed. That would be bad._

* * *

Bulma sighed, picking up the now-unconscious-again Emperor. "I'll take him back to the guest room and hope he didn't get a concussion or something," she explained to Goku and Chi-Chi.

"Oh, be _careful_ , Bulma," Chi-Chi sniffed, clutching her deadly frying pan to her chest with a look of genuine concern. "He's a man, after all, y'don't know what they'll do when you're in a small space like that!"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes or scoff, knowing Chi-Chi was sincere—she was such an old-fashioned type, after all, and she knew that Bulma could get herself into quite a lot of trouble. Bulma smiled instead and with a laugh replied: "Come on, Chi, he's not a _man_ right now, he can't do anything to me."

Mollified, Chi-Chi dropped the topic entirely. Goku made no comment, more than likely oblivious to the entire thing as he was always an innocent type. Bulma shook her head affectionately at both of them before turning on her heel and dragging Vegeta away, smile instantly turning into a scowl.

"God, you faint so much you'd think you were a princess," she grumbled to the unconscious form of the Emperor as she hauled him into the room and deposited him on the bed. While he was still asleep, she decided to take advantage of the lull and have a shower before changing out of her dirtier work clothes into something more suited to travel. Surprised though she was that Vegeta was _still_ asleep when she reemerged from the shower and opened up her clothing capsules, she wasn't going to complain. Bulma busied herself with changing before drying and brushing her hair.

She didn't have much, yet it still felt incredibly tedious trying to pick out something. Bulma eventually settled on a denim jacket with the old double C-logo of her father's company on the back, a black tank, and black cargo pants paired with her usual utility belt. Bulma checked herself in the mirror for a moment, making sure she looked all right before winking at her own reflection. _Yep, you're still hot even with this drama going on!_ At least she had _that_.

As she was drying and reworking her hair into a more serviceable braid, she turned back around and realized Vegeta was very much _awake_ and watching her.

In a situation such as this, usually a woman would scream and throw something at the man watching her. However, Bulma was aware the entire situation wasn't anything resembling usual. After all, Vegeta was presently a monkey, he wasn't reading anything like a man to her.

Not that he read as anything but a _beast_ to her when he was still a man, she would hasten to add. An ugly little troll of a man!

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," she bit sarcastically, tying off the braid with an elastic band.

Vegeta mumbled something, blinking blearily at her. Whatever it was, Bulma ignored it, indicating the door with a jerk of her head. "We're probably going to eat something before leaving, knowing Goku, but equally likely they'll convince us to stay overnight. Did you want to keep those clothes on or take them off? I mean, monkeys don't really need clothes, do they?"

"I am not…a monkey…" he finally muttered loud enough for her to hear. "…I want…this flowy stuff off. But other than that…no. I don't wanna be naked when I turn back."

She snorted, wow, he _must_ have been delirious, he sounded like he was drunk as he talked. Then again it was a good point, she hardly wanted to see the Emperor in all his glory when he transformed back into his proper form either. Since Vegeta appeared to still be out of it, Bulma assisted him with removing "the flowy part" of his regalia (she assumed he meant the cape too and also removed it) but left the rest of it alone.

"What _is_ that for anyway?" she asked, folding up the white cloth. "It seems like it would just get in the way as you walked."

"I _know_ ," Vegeta growled back. "That's what I say all the time, but _oh no_ , I have to look the part of an Emperor after all."

Bulma decided she liked delirious Vegeta much more than regular Vegeta, he was agreeable and funny. Nonetheless, he couldn't stay like that, she sighed with regret realizing that they would probably have to resort to a Senzu bean to get his thinking back in order. "Hang on, I'll get you something for your headache," she stated to him, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the room.

God but he was glad she didn't hear the part where he mumbled _"you're very pretty"_ like an idiot.

Or maybe she did but ignored it. The lack of response on her expression however spoke that she _didn't_ hear.

It wasn't like he could help it anyway! It wasn't _his_ fault he woke up as she was getting dressed. And—and she was wearing undergarments anyway, so it wasn't like she was _nude_! He felt ashamed of himself for gawking like an idiot and was, weirdly, glad for his half-concussed state covering up his…whatever it was he felt.

Vegeta had seen a lot of princesses in his time as the Emperor and had disliked all of them, but they weren't _unattractive_. Physical beauty just never did it for him. In fact, he didn't know _what_ did "it" for him since he had never felt attraction of that sort anyway. The only thing close enough was his experience as a boy which was _hardly_ the feeling an adult would have.

 _None of them_ looked like the woman. None of them had curves like her, none of them had her unique coloring, none of them had that flow of hair down her back that looked soft as silk. None of them had the tone she did that showed a hardiness atypical for women of the higher status. None of them had her wit and spunk that made him want to engage with her over and over again no matter how masochistic it seemed. He was weirdly _all right_ with her being nothing like a princess, if Vegeta was being honest with himself he was smitten the first time she threatened him (but he never was).

* * *

_H-hey, wait a minute, narrator! It's not as though it matters if I'm attracted to her or not—she hates my guts! That's what I keep trying to tell myself anyway, apparently I'm so stubborn I won't even listen to myself? Goddammit, me._

* * *

He was thinking of that girl in his distant memory again. He realized his feeling of attraction towards the woman felt very similar to the infatuation he felt as a boy towards the girl.

He felt compelled to _prove it_ to the woman and to her fellows that his father wasn't who they thought he was.

 _You fool,_ his thoughts scolded him, _you're getting too emotional over a couple of strangers. Who cares what they think? When they bring you back to your palace, you're going to…destroy their home._

Destroy their home.

Do the thing that they accused his father of doing.

 _Who really cares if it's you or if it's Frieza?_ Bulma's voice jeered at him. _You're_ both _tyrants._

Was that how everybody else felt, too? That it didn't matter if he was there because he was a tyrant? Was he such a monster in the eyes of his people?

Vegeta was startled out of his dangerously close to self-aware thoughts by Bulma coming back, holding something small and green in her hand. "Here," she said, poking it into his still half-open mouth. "Chew and swallow, don't ask questions, it'll make your headache go away."

Despite his usual contrary nature, Vegeta obeyed the order, chewing the plain-tasting thing rapidly and swallowing. As soon as it went down his throat and hit his stomach he found…yes, he was thinking clearly again and his headache was definitely gone.

"What's that?" he managed with a raspy voice. "Folk medicine?"

"Something like that," Bulma answered, pulling him up by the arm. "Come on, Emperor, it's time for lunch."

"Don't order me around, woman!" he spat, pulling away from her, trying to find his balance in his very unfamiliar body. "D-dammit—how do these creatures even _live_ like this?"

"Quite well, in fact," Bulma snorted, stopping for a moment to wait for him to stumble to her.

"My—my father wasn't the one that caused those villages to be destroyed!" Vegeta felt the need to defend himself suddenly.

Bulma raised an eyebrow at him, a flicker of…something flashed over her expression before she smoothed it out again. "Why don't we hold off on that topic until we're all at the table?" she said evenly. "My mom, Goku's mom, Chi-Chi, they're all probably setting up right now."

He found himself sighing in frustration that she wouldn't engage with him _now_ about the topic, head swimming with confusing thoughts and muddled memories trying to come through. "I'm _not_ a tyrant," he mumbled when she started walking again. "I'm _not_. You don't know me at all, woman."

A significant pause stood between them for a moment. Then—"And you don't know me either, my name is _Bulma_."

Vegeta winced. _Bulma_. He _had_ heard that name before, definitely. So then—"Are you sure about that, _Bulma_?"

Him saying her name must have taken her by surprise as she faltered and glanced down at him, expression clouded with apprehension.

"…All right. Pull it together, Emperor," she responded, taking him by the paw again to pull him over to the table and sit him down. "It's lunch time."

* * *

_Ah-ah-ah—she thinks she's got me pegged, oh no—I know she's_ definitely _telling herself that more than me, stupid woman!_

* * *

She pointedly walked right to the kitchen rather than engage him further, leaving Vegeta alone with an odd assortment of men at the table. He sat there, staring at them one by one, sizing them all up. One looked almost identical to Kakarot save for a scar on his cheek, he supposed that was Kakarot's father. Another that kept getting up from his chair to go check on things in the kitchen and come back was a Saiyan with _absurdly_ long hair, he could only guess that was Kakarot's brother. Two sat next to each other were…not Saiyans, he supposed they were humans, though one had _three eyes_ which was utterly _freakish_. The first man seemed completely non-threatening and almost friendly, which annoyed Vegeta. They couldn't have been related to anyone, so he didn't know why they were there except Kakarot's brother talked to them more than others.

The clearly oldest man at the table with a mop of grey hair and thick glasses looked familiar and looked at _him_ with familiarity in turn. He wanted to believe it was because he was the Emperor and therefore _extremely_ important but with how today was going he was sure that it was going to be a whole lot more sob stories he didn't want to be involved with.

He tried to distract himself. He cast his glance to the right and realized a woman was sitting next to him, scribbling down in a notepad. Short, cropped blonde hair and dark eyes—though something about her seemed similar to Bulma. Her sister, perhaps?

 _Her name is Tights,_ his brain supplied without realizing it. … _Oh shit,_ he thought when he realized.

Yes, he _realized_ even more when a woman with blonde curls tied up atop her head came in with a large serving of meat that she set down on the table. _Oh SHIT, I remember now!_

"It's been ages, Vegeta sweetie," the older woman cooed with a sweet smile. "I thought we'd never get to invite ya over for dinner again!"

"Come on, Mom," Tights sighed, looking up from her notebook. "He probably doesn't remember, that was a long time ago."

 _I CERTAINLY DO_ NOW _EVEN IF I DON'T WANT TO!_ his thoughts screamed as he resisted the urge to bury his hands in his…not hair anymore, fur? _God,_ now _I remember! I can't believe it! The old ones were friends with_ my _parents! The woman and I used to_ play _together—what the hell!? Did I block that out or something?!_

"Oh pish, he's probably rememberin' right now, I know Bulma sure is even if she doesn't wanna," the Briefs matron tittered setting down a plate in front of him. "You two were so adorable on your little playdates—right, honey?"

"Mmhmm," Dr. Briefs mumbled, getting himself a serving. "Vegeta and I used to joke that they would get married someday."

"Absolutely, Lottie and I used to, too!" Mrs. Briefs squealed.

 _Lottie_ , Vegeta thought with horror. The woman meant _Eschalotte_ , his _mother_.

* * *

_She seriously just called the former Empress "Lottie"—that's illegal! –Okay, it's not, but it_ should _be illegal!_

* * *

"Wow, gee," Kakarot said with awe. "How come ya never mentioned that part to us?"

After a moment of what looked like serious thought, the old man shrugged. "Suppose it just never came up."

Vegeta slapped his palm to his face. _SERIOUSLY?!_

A slight Saiyan woman with a kind face brought out the next serving of food, followed by Kakarot's wife carrying rice, and Bulma carrying drinks. She had a sour look on her face which must have meant her mother was chattering to her the whole time how nice it was to have Vegeta over again just as she was right then. _At least I'm not the only one suffering through this humiliation,_ he thought bitterly chewing on a piece of meat as though it personally offended him.

Come to think of it, he had never really made the time to _remember_ much from his childhood. He passed it off as unimportant and pushed it away while he locked himself deeper and deeper into his palace. Was it because of…? Yes, West City was destroyed, and _the girl_ along with her family disappeared, assumed to be dead. After that Vegeta didn't feel very much like talking to people at all, he had…changed.

 _…Oh ew, how sentimental_ , he grumbled, trying to push it down again like the urge to vomit but finding it more difficult than usual.

"That all being said," the three-eyed man interrupted. Vegeta now noticed that a strange _doll_ thing was sitting next to him in a specially made chair to boost it to the table. It seemed to notice Vegeta right back and smiled nastily at him, creeping the Emperor the hell out enough to look away. "If we're done with the…drama, I guess, Bulma, Goku—would you both care to explain why there's a talking monkey at the table?"

"I am not a _monkey_ ," Vegeta snarled. "I'm the Emperor and you _will_ show me respect!"

The man only stared back at him with a sardonic half-lidded look. "Right. When Hell freezes over."

He was only stopped from jumping across the table by Tights and Bulma both putting their hands on his shoulders. "Down, boy," Bulma scolded, taking her seat. "On our part, when Goku and I visited Emperor Asshole here, he said he was going to tear down the village to set up a military base."

Some gasps echoed around the table, Mrs. Briefs tutted with a look of disappointment muttering that Vegeta used to be such a _nice_ boy, whatever happened to him?

 _What happened? You all_ died _and I was never_ nice _in the first place, so I had no reason to pretend I was anymore,_ he lied to himself, forking more food into his mouth to avoid talking.

* * *

_Ughhh this is_ boring _, do you really want to sit through the whole conversation? The point is—Bulma explained the situation leading up to now. I added in what happened with Frieza. I learned the idiots' names and their relationships to each other_ despite not wanting to _, I can't help being so observant!_

* * *

In fact, he was observing right then how Kakarot and Chi-Chi just…openly held hands at the table. Fingers linked together. He swallowed against a dry throat, looking over at Bulma who had her own hands rested in her lap, then down at his own.

He gulped, not quite liking where his impulses were trying to lead him.

"When we fled from West City," Dr. Briefs was explaining, "Panchy and I deemed it for the best to simply not talk about what happened anymore and not go back to show we were still alive. Neither of us could be sure if the insurgents wouldn't specifically target _us_ again, since I was friends with the previous Emperor. We wanted to be able to raise our daughters in peace."

"And when Zarbon came along telling everybody about the razing Vegeta the third _supposedly_ ordered, you couldn't come out and call him a liar for risk of being discovered," Bardock concluded, stirring his rice around in his bowl.

"Correct," the good doctor sighed with regret. "Besides, who would believe the loony old doctor over an official from the Empire anyway?"

"Don't say that, Briefs!" Gine encouraged, "Everybody loves you here, _we_ all know you're not a liar!"

"Yeah, that Zarbon guy has fancy hair, but Paozu people stick together!" Kakarot firmly added.

 _What does his_ fancy hair _have to do with it?_ Vegeta mentally groaned, trying his best to not awkwardly stare at Bulma. It was way too much, the older people in their lives just purposefully allowed their childhood memories to atrophy—he supposed they thought it was for the best to save them from the trauma and grief. Yet he felt insulted and like his time had been wasted for so long. If he had _known_ sooner—like back at the palace when they met up, maybe things would have gone differently!

Bulma had been quiet for a long time for her part, all throughout the conversation. Planning, he supposed, not looking at him or anybody else but right straight down at her plate with a look of contemplation.

"Frieza was responsible for the insurgents," she finally spoke up. "And since House Vegeta has no blood relations or ties that would be able to stand in for the current Emperor after announcing a disappearance or death, Frieza can take over. He was more than likely planning this the whole time."

Indeed, Vegeta remembered that Frieza had subtly (or the lizard thought he was being subtle) encouraged Vegeta's shut-in tendencies, stating that common peons shouldn't feel so _familiar_ with the Emperor. Nobody knew who he really was, he had no bonds outside of his court and even those were business only at best. His brother had run away because of his own growing elitism and resentment choking the poor boy. He had created his own cage and voluntarily shut himself in.

Now distracted from his bizarre impulsive thoughts of wanting to hold Bulma's hand, Vegeta sighed and clutched at his chest, trying not to make a noise at the dull ache he was feeling there.

He was lonely, he figured, and being outside of his element rather than able to retreat to the safety of his own chambers weighed down on him as a reminder of how alone he really was.

His tail began waving around without him realizing, whapping against the chair legs with a semi-audible thump.

"Nappa wouldn't let him take over outright," he spoke up after a moment of thinking. "He's a buffoon, but he knows how to handle things in a crisis—and he _does_ rank above Frieza."

"That should give us some time, then," Bulma nodded without acknowledging him directly. "I don't trust going back to the palace right away and trying to fish through Frieza's weird chemicals to find something that can change the Emperor back. We should go to Baba instead to find a solution for this…this." She gestured vaguely at him.

* * *

_I should make it illegal for her to be ignoring me like this, what disrespect!_

* * *

Tights sighed, "The old witch, really? You know she might speak something cryptic and then charge you for it."

Alarmed though Vegeta was at the idea of visiting a _witch_ it suddenly made much more sense to him where that miraculous bean that Bulma gave to him came from. He didn't much care for witches, as Tights said they often spoke cryptic nonsense and for royals like him in particular they tried to speak about curses to wheedle money out of the more gullible ones. _"Do this or your firstborn will die by stubbing her toe" "give me this or you'll never find true love"—_ blah blah blah. All the better reason to never talk to anybody!

"I know," Bulma responded, "She might want a token or some stupid thing like that. I'll be prepared."

He wondered if they were all thinking it would be better to just leave him this way and let the power struggle between Nappa and Frieza commence. They had no idea what Frieza was like either, with the way he hid in the shadows and schemed. He wasn't even certain what his aim was with taking over the Empire and ruling, usually villains were much more obvious but he hid it all behind a veneer of politeness.

Nappa? …Vegeta witnessed him falling down the stairs once trying to catch a cookie. Battle strategies Nappa was good with, common sense not too much.

Lost in his musings he didn't notice at first that the table was being cleared and everyone was leaving. He was alone there now. Again. Always alone.

…Actually, not quite, Bulma was still there sat next to him as if to add to the torment of the day.

 _Hello, old friend,_ he thought grimly, unsure of what things would be like going forward between them. They were veritable strangers as adults though they were inseparable as children.

But thirteen (again, of course lucky 13) years was a long time. She looked at him with disgust and hostility now, she had _threatened_ him, and besides his bizarre response of Saiyan instinct to be attracted to danger his elitism still regarded her as lower class. His first thought was to push her away like he did everyone else, even if all of his life he had wished to himself that _she_ had never "died."

Vegeta shifted, trying to find _something_ to talk about in between his warring thoughts, only comforted by the fact that Bulma was feeling just as unsure as him.

"You're colder than before," Bulma spoke first, matter of fact. "I only remember bits and pieces, but I remember you…weren't like this."

Well, duh. Of course he was colder—to tell the truth he had only ever been warm to exactly two people: her and Tarble. But they were both gone, Bulma dead and Tarble chased away by Vegeta's blackening heart, so why should he have bothered to pretend? "…I'm not a child anymore, that would be why," he lied, "I simply grew up."

It wasn't proper for an Emperor to mope and mourn about someone he couldn't have been with once he ascended to the throne anyway. It would hardly be proper for the Emperor to play around with a commoner, he imagined the scandal that would erupt as they grew older, the predatory media making links between them. His reputation would be ruined, his honor lost.

(He supposed he should have been thinking about how she would suffer as well, but it did not occur to him.)

As if she was reading his mind or at least could tell what he was thinking, Bulma scoffed while shaking her head. "What a joke." Her tone was…he couldn't read it, but it certainly wasn't happy. "I used to dream about a prince when I was a kid and have no clue why I wanted that so much. Part of me was missing _you_ , I guess."

It was fortunate monkeys weren't capable of blushing or at least not in an obvious way, otherwise he would have been in trouble (though his stomach was still doing uncomfortable flip-flops). "…And now?" he chanced to ask. Vegeta's elitism kept trying to tell him it didn't matter what she thought because she was a commoner, another part of him hoped that _maybe_ if she wanted to show opposition—maybe he could—

Bulma was silent for a long time, expression visibly pained.

The ache in his chest grew worse at the sight and he couldn't figure out why.

"…I don't know. I've always said I don't trust the Empire, that I believed everything Zarbon said even though my family said otherwise. But…honestly…part of me didn't believe it. All of it, the doubt, the dreaming about a prince…it was you. It was always you, Vegeta."

That was _wonderful,_ part of him thought, but his common sense was alerted to how _defeated_ she looked even admitting such things. There wouldn't be anything happy here, it reminded him. "…You're disappointed," he concluded, feeling the ache intensify even through the panicked hope welling up. "You're disappointed that you wanted to meet me again and I'm…"

"You're cruel," Bulma confirmed. "You're…not my friend. You gave up on me—on everything so easily." She tried to sound disengaged as she spoke but Vegeta could see her eyes becoming oddly misty.

"I was—!" he tried to protest that he was only a child, but it sounded like an implausible excuse to him the more he thought about it. Child though he was, he was an extremely stubborn one, logical in thinking—if there was no body there was no death concluded. He should have…

"I know." Bulma smiled, a forced and hollow expression. He wondered if her heart ached as much as his right then. "I should have run back to find you and say I was all right, myself. But I was…too scared after everything. Everything that I saw."

 _Don't blame yourself, I understand,_ a very soft and sentimental part of himself wanted to say. Vegeta was possessed by the desire more than ever to hold her hand. The shell he created over himself struggled to contain these foreign feelings and stalled him from doing _anything_ at all.

She stood before he could sort himself out ( _work up any courage whatsoever…_ ), he noticed—though she tried to hide it from him—that she whisked away a stray tear before turning.

"I need to…get back to my house. I've got preparations to make before we meet Baba tomorrow."

"W-wait!" Vegeta stammered, struggling to get down from his chair to follow after her. "Why not sooner? I need to get back to the palace _sooner_!"

"That eager to get away from the _dirty peasants_ , huh Emperor?" Bulma scoffed, not bothering to turn back and face him.

He faltered, mouthed useless words that it wasn't what he _meant_ but realized Bulma was gone before he could get anything coherent out.

She was gone again. The scent of salt from her tears permeated the air even while she tried to hide them.

Monkeys couldn't weep, and Vegeta had promised himself so long ago he would never weep over anything or anyone ever again, yet he wanted nothing more to unleash the bitter heat building pressure behind his eyes then.

* * *

That _could have gone better. I'm absolutely feeling like_ shit _right now, by the way! Thanks for asking!_

_I guess at least I can say I'm not alone in this._

_But I won't._

_You think I want to tackle all of these_ feelings _at once? No thank you!_

_—"Vegeta, honey, are you talkin' to yourself?"_

* * *

Vegeta was brought out of his thoughts by Panchy who stood there in the doorway staring at him.

"No," he grumbled, somewhat defensive.

"Oh, okay." That wasn't what she was there for, he could tell that much from the look on her face. "I think you shouldn't give up on tryin' to patch things up with Bulma, dear."

And _there_ it was! "What makes you think I _want_ to?" he sneered, burying any feelings saying contrary. "We were children and we are no longer. What's so difficult to comprehend there?" He puffed himself up to look suitably important, ignoring the side of himself that was stubbornly trying to fight to the surface saying _no I want that after all_. "None of that will matter when I tear down this _dump_."

Panchy only stared at him before clicking her tongue.

 _Liar,_ her expression said.

 _Liar,_ his own thoughts scolded him when he was left alone.

Liar, liar liar.

* * *

Any of Bulma's plans, if she had them, were shot to Hell. Officially. Decisively. She sat at her workbench in a sullen mood while she tried to piece together _something_ to bring logic back into the whole mess of a situation.

It made no sense no matter how hard she tried. None. _None_. She banged her fist on the bench, trying to force herself not to cry with frustration and sorrow. That _wasn't_ her, she was _Bulma Briefs—_ she didn't _cry_ over wherefores and what ifs. She didn't cry over _men_ even if they were former friends turned asshole men turned monkeys.

 _But you do cry when you're in pain, and you are. And you know_ he's _in pain, too,_ her intellectual side whispered.

Pained, harmed, trying to push each other away.

"This sucks," she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "This sucks. This isn't _fair_."

"A lot of things aren't fair, you'll find," a gruff voice sounded from behind her.

Bulma didn't have to turn around to know it was Vegeta. She thought of the man she encountered at the palace despite knowing he _wasn't_ that man right now. Only hearing his voice and with her back turned made it easier for her to visualize and try to compare what she remembered of Vegeta the boy to Vegeta the man.

Nobody looked like Vegeta, not in the entire world, nobody she ever met even came close. That wasn't to say he was conventionally handsome, not by any stretch, his sharp features and stocky body showed that much. His nose was always pointy, even if he had lost the baby fat from when he was younger. His forehead was tall, even more so since he lost (or pushed up, from what she recalled about his complaints as kids) the boyish bangs. He was _short_ , they could look each other in the eye despite her being 5'5" at max.

He was hardly the stuff of fairy tales as far as royals went. Dashing and noble prince he was not, in attitude or looks. Matter of fact, _he_ was the one who needed rescuing right now.

Well. She always knew fairy tales were a crock of shit anyway.

"What do you want?" she asked, not turning to face him even as he tromped over and sat down next to her. "I'm taking you to Baba tomorrow, I won't back out on that."

Vegeta was quiet for a moment, until: "How much do you remember _now_?"

 _Now? Like it was supposed to change?_ "We used to meet by the river," she automatically answered, "It's blurry, but I remember a little, like I said before."

More silence. "I suppose this changes things."

"Oh, _does_ it?" she hissed, now turning to him. "What, had a change of heart all of a sudden? Not gonna build your base now?"

"Well, I don't even need a base, actually," he responded mildly, looking up at her with that same dark gaze she remembered over the years no matter how blurry her memories were. "It was decided on Frieza's advice, to keep up appearances. But seeing as he's committing treason, I now have every reason to fire him and disregard anything he says."

They stared at each other.

Bulma's sense of sympathy nagged at her again—to keep up appearances. She remembered he had always wanted to be a great Emperor just like his father, unfortunately his father had followed Frieza's advice and then later was murdered by him. Vegeta was set to go down the same path if it wasn't for the odd twist of fate that led him back into her life.

More and more, though it was dangerous, the hate and distrust she had built up was softening, tearing down her walls. That wouldn't do.

"This place is a dump, anyway," he scoffed, turning up his nose away from her. "I don't need to make a base here. I would much rather never come back here again."

"And you won't, once we visit Baba," Bulma replied. "Is that all?"

Vegeta drummed his fingers on the bench, looking around awkwardly. "No…um…"

He _stammered?_ Bulma was too surprised to give a smart retort.

* * *

_Oh god I_ stammered _, what is_ wrong _with me right now?! I'm acting like a lovesick fool around this woman!_

* * *

He really didn't know. Vegeta was trying to think of something, wanting _very_ much to have an excuse to be around Bulma, to justify talking to her; he had been dreaming of this scenario for _so long_ even while not remembering _why_ he was longing for such a thing. Something he had lost as a child and desperately wanted back, lost in a sea of grief and anger, heavily conflicting with the shell he had built up to protect himself.

He realized he was trying to think of _something_ so that even after he returned to the palace she would _stay_ with him. _That is_ disgraceful, his thoughts sneered. _She's a commoner and you're a royal, you need to stop thinking such sentimental garbage._

"If…I said…that I would be able to set you and your family up with a place in the Capital…" Vegeta began, pushing down his conflicted thoughts and feelings. "In—in return for doing this, I mean. What would you think?" He paused, wracking at his brain. "You and your father still invent, do you not? We've been lacking in a proper science department since your family disappeared."

"In return for helping you," Bulma stated, not asked, tone sounding dull. "That sounds more like it benefits you, Emperor."

 _Well yes, but what's the problem with that?_ "You would be paid for your services!" he insisted.

"Then ask Dad, I'm an adult and I make my own decisions. I'm not leaving Paozu."

Vegeta felt his stomach sink, disappointed despite himself. "What can I do to convince you otherwise?"

"Why does it matter to you? I don't want to be your servant, and I know that's all I'd ever be to you."

 _I wouldn't protest if you decided on being my consort,_ a stray thought that Vegeta immediately batted away out of embarrassment piped up. _Stop that! She's a commoner!_ "Humor me, then. Think about it."

"Whatever," Bulma scoffed, waving him off. "Get out, I have work to do."

Vegeta looked around the room, noting the various inventions that had been created over the years. Bulma's mind was always sharp and creative, constantly popping off ideas like daisies sprouting from soil. In fact, when he had gotten too smart with her at one point she pointed a gun she had made herself at him.

Perhaps that wasn't the most normal method of playing, but he was a Saiyan and thought nothing of it.

Thinking over these things wasn't going to help right now, however, and Bulma had reached the limit of her tolerance for being around him. Thus, Vegeta honored her wish and left her alone, leaving the room only to realize his tail was dragging on the floor in a dejected gesture.

 _Bah. Pathetic,_ he scolded himself, hating his own weakness, reminding himself that he was supposed to be an _Emperor_ —he could not be flawed.

* * *

_Again, that could have gone better. I slept like shit later that night,_ thanks _for asking._

_Now let's check on Nappa._

* * *

Frieza was in a good mood, Nappa was in Hell. He watched Frieza sprawl out on the Emperor's throne, tail flicking back and forth gleefully as he went over his list of things to do.

"We'll have to make a show out of Vegeta disappearing," Frieza announced with a flourish. "What should I say? Maybe that he ran off because of a midlife crisis?"

 _Thirty isn't midlife for a Saiyan?_ Nappa thought. _Not even close?_

"Oh, I know! Perhaps he had a secret lover," Frieza continued gleefully, "A peasant!"

"Tarble already did that," Nappa cut in, "And he _did_ run away."

 _"Haha, Vegeta having a lover, that's hilarious,"_ Nappa's shoulder devil chortled.

 _"He deserves love just as much as anyone else, it's not his fault he's repressed!"_ Nappa's shoulder angel scolded.

 _"Uh, he literally represses_ himself _?"_

Nappa ignored both of them, focusing on Frieza.

"Pah, you're no fun, Nappa," the lizard grumbled. The moment passed quickly as he brightened up again, leaning forward as though sharing some juicy gossip with him. "So? Tell me. Tell me how you _killed him_."

He froze.

Frieza noticed, his grin dropped. "Nappa."

Nappa rubbed the back of his head, mumbling: "Well, uh…he's uh…" He licked his suddenly very dry lips, squirming. "N…not as dead as expected?"

" _He's still alive?!_ "

* * *

Goku poked his head into Bulma's workshop, calling down to her asking if she wanted to join them for dinner at his house.

"Give me a second, Goku," Bulma said over her shoulder even as he was coming down the stairs. "I'm just working on some capsules."

"Haha, figures," Goku chuckled, reaching out and patting her on the shoulder encouragingly. His hand stayed for a moment, Bulma knew that meant he was about to ask a question that was a little more probing than she wanted. Predictably: "Are you okay? Vegeta seemed really down when he came back to the house. And the whole thing that you guys used to be friends sounds kinda rough."

"Only _kinda_ rough, Goku?" she huffed, rolling her eyes. "The tyrant that I hated for over a decade turns out to be my best friend from my childhood, then he's acting like—like an actual _person_ right now, it's _weird_. I want him to go back to his stupid palace and get out of my life again!"

Harsh words, cruel words, not things Bulma would usually say. The frown he gave her in return showed that he didn't entirely believe the spiteful words she was spewing out as much as she wanted to be convincing.

"You missed him and he missed you, too," Goku astutely observed.

 _Damn him._ Bulma pressed her hands flat onto her desk, trying to push away the impulse to break things. Acting like a bratty child wouldn't do anything productive, she was being immature, but _dammit_ it made the most sense to her for protecting herself.

"You guys are a lot alike, you know?" Goku was continuing to hit it out of the park with being accurate, too bad it jabbed at Bulma right in her _soul_ with how _true_ it was. "I think it's sad, you were separated and missed each other for so long but didn't know why."

"Dammit, Goku!" Bulma burst, violently spinning around in her chair to face him. "You're gonna make me cry again!"

"Aw, heck," he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "It's okay, Bulma, don't cry! It'll be okay!"

 _But_ , the way he continued staring at her, still making that gesture led her to realize there was a _but_ there.

"But, uh…won't ya consider being friends again? At least try talkin' to him, he really _really_ seems unhappy and lonely."

 _Ughhhh god,_ Goku and his compassion! It made Bulma _sick_ sometimes!

He appeared to notice her wanting to be disgusted and protest, giving her a severe look and cutting in with: "You know it, too. Don't deny it."

Damn. Goku put on his Serious Voice for that. Bulma wilted, looking away from him at the floor guiltily—Goku wouldn't allow her to look away, however, and kneeled to be in her view, placing both his hands on her shoulders. "Bulma," he said softly, "Please try, won't ya?"

She sighed, eyes closing in frustration. Bulma couldn't refuse Goku when he so earnestly asked, she loved him way too much (platonically, she wasn't a weirdo). "He offered me a job of all things," she groaned for lack of anything else to say.

"Oh!" Goku perked up, he looked happy for her despite the scowl she was giving him. "But that's…good, isn't it? You're always messin' around with inventions and stuff. So…?"

"He offered us a place in the Capital. He wants _servants_ , Goku, not friends," she said in return, taking the air out of Goku's happy balloon.

"Oh…" he said quietly, shoulders slumping.

"...It doesn't matter anyway, he admitted that he doesn't actually need or want a base, so he'll leave Paozu alone after this," Bulma huffed, blowing off his disappointment at things not turning out as happily as he thought. _Happily ever after doesn't exist, Goku, come on!_

Goku gave her a small smile, a faint twinkle in a still dark and murky situation. "Well…that's good. We can just make do with seeing what Granny Baba can do for the Emperor tomorrow." He patted his stomach. "For now, though, I'm _really_ hungry! Let's go eat!"

Bulma laughed, mood lightening as she stood to join Goku. The subject of Vegeta and the idea of them ever salvaging a friendship seemed to be laid to rest.

She thought.

Until Goku gave her The Look again.

"But think about what I said, okay, Bulma?"

 _God, he's so ruthless for a pure-hearted guy!_ Bulma's thoughts grumbled in exasperation.

* * *

_Hey._

_I'm still here, peons, get it? Just because we're focusing on these idiots right now doesn't mean I'm not still here. This story is about_ me _, understand?_

 _Dinner wasn't_ terrible _. (Honestly, it was better than anything the palace cooks ever made. Panchy was always great at cooking and Kakarot's wife was no slouch herself.) I still slept terribly afterwards—_ NOT BECAUSE KAKAROT SAID I WAS SAD, ALL RIGHT?! _That was not at all why! What an_ insulting _thing to say!_

_The next morning we prepared to go see the witch, and—_

* * *

Kakarot's wife and Mrs. Briefs were packing them lunches. Vegeta observed this distantly while he sat at the table waiting for Kakarot and Bulma to finish packing, his tail waving back and forth again. He was becoming oddly used to the extra limb—he still didn't believe that Saiyans used to have tails, he really didn't! But something felt natural about having it. Must have been the monkey brain.

 _I hate this_ , he thought sullenly. He had been thinking that repeatedly in the same sullen tone for the past hour it was taking for the women to work.

Eventually Yamcha—a buffoon who smiled too much which didn't endear Vegeta to him remotely—scolded Chi-Chi about being on her feet and took over in cooking for her.

Vegeta had never been around or even seen a pregnant person before but knew enough at least to agree (however silently) with Yamcha's statement. He didn't comment, however, and continued watching as he sat, now kicking his feet impatiently.

 _Then_ Yamcha tried _talking to him_.

"So, Emperor, how are you liking Paozu?"

He bared his teeth, thinking of venturing out to see the farm since—honestly—he hadn't been _outside_ -outside in years and was curious.

Chickens attacked him.

Or at least they began crowding around him; he _thought_ they were going to attack and therefore he ran back inside declaring it stunk and wasn't worth it.

"It smells here. It all smells." He turned his nose up, crossing his arms.

Yamcha, rather than becoming put off, only grinned.

 _What the hell!?_ Vegeta very much wanted to leave Paozu and never come back more than ever! This _nowhere dump_ made people _brainless and happy_ , he hated it! He tuned out Yamcha, he tuned out Bulma and Kakarot coming in and taking the capsules that contained their food, he only responded to Bulma's silent gesture of reaching out to take his hand. Vegeta couldn't comprehend how easily and comfortably they fell into that habit so suddenly—but then, he remembered, Bulma often dragged him around by the hand when they were little as well. Muscle memory.

She still hated him, though, he thought with regret. He should have been more convincing about bringing the Briefs back out of Paozu (and closer to the Empire again…), he shouldn't have been so bold, he should have said he would assist with rebuilding the compound in West City.

Maybe he should have offered more money?

"Bye-bye, darlings!" Panchy chirped, waving a handkerchief as they loaded up the car ( _seriously, could she get anymore old-fashioned?!_ ) "Have a safe trip!"

Vegeta didn't even bother with returning the partings while Kakarot and Bulma did so, slumping into the front seat of the car automatically.

"Uh-uh."

Bulma's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he looked up at her. "What do you want, woman?"

"Goku sits in front with me, you're too short to sit in the front," Bulma stated. "You're lucky I couldn't whip up a booster seat in a single night for you."

" _BOOSTER SEAT?!_ " Vegeta shouted, jabbing a finger at her. "I'm not some _infant_! Don't you dare ever suggest that again! I'm staying p—"

Kakarot lifted him and began rocking him back and forth, singing something that sounded like the prayer of a local religion. Somehow it began to calm him even as Kakarot deposited him in the backseat and buckled him in.

"Okay! We're off!" Kakarot exclaimed. "This is gonna be fun, right, guys?"

 _This is gonna_ suck, Vegeta mentally complained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever made it through the chapters here's the situation on Mozart:  
> 1\. I work at your local Wallyworld and you can imagine how that's going with the quarantine that nobody is following and are instead panic buying, I've had related anxiety about my health and availability of supplies as the panic buying continues  
> 2\. I have had three relatives pass away in the space of a couple of months, most recent was my aunt  
> 3\. This isn't a call for pity Mozart by any means it's just a transparent explanation on what's been going on if you're not on my Twitter (it's not an obligation at all tbh I'm totally obnoxious there)  
> 4\. Some longer series like OTWT and Goodnight, Badman have been on hold as a result of this but *I am still writing them*  
> 5\. I decided to put this in a note at the end on the second chapter because nobody would read it, okay, okay, thank you and goodnight


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta wants conflicting things but unfortunately, he's still an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No I didn't forget about this, unfortunately for you all pfftpfptpft. I've just been busy, so this one is short but we're getting a liiiittle closer to the penultimate conclusion (is that even a thing.)
> 
> Anyway!

_Hey, everybody. This is the beautiful and brilliant Bulma Briefs taking over for narration—Vegeta doesn't know anything about Baba and he's…well…_

* * *

Bulma watched Goku and Vegeta's absurd argument over nothing which had just resulted in Vegeta biting Goku's head (and Goku biting Vegeta's tail in return).

* * *

_Occupied._

_Anyways, as for Baba, if Vegeta thought Frieza was proof "someone" did "something" "inappropriate" with dinosaurs, Baba is proof that dinosaurs were real and still live on this planet. She's ancient and_ ugly _, she_ and _her gross brother "the Turtle Hermit" (can't stand that guy!) Unfortunately, she's also a_ very _powerful witch, capable of visiting the afterlife (yes, seriously) and predicting the future (I know, right?!) She's got…connections, let's say, a lot of them. That's what I'm getting at. The old hag is our best bet for dealing with Vegeta's little issue outside of going back and trying to paw through Frieza's chemicals (seriously, how did that guy get the means and resources to do that?)_

* * *

"Are you done?" Vegeta growled, interrupting Bulma's thoughts.

"Are you?" she retorted with a smirk, glancing over at him rubbing at his tail as though it hurt. Despite wanting to fully engage her "dismissive bitch" mode and against her better judgment, Bulma felt herself soften at the sight. She sighed, digging out the medical kit from one of her capsules with a roll of her eyes and an affected demeanor of casualness. "Come here," she huffed, "I'll take care of that."

Vegeta regarded her warily for a moment before shifting over to her side, almost shyly offering her his tail (now missing a chunk of fur and sporting teeth-shaped indentations).

Carefully, already aware that he was hurting and she didn't need to make it worse, Bulma took the Emperor's tail in her hands to spray the disinfectant and wrap the injury.

"Why me?" he asked. "Isn't _Kakarot_ more important to you?"

Bulma clicked her tongue, a wry smile shining out even while she tried to keep up her skepticism. "Goku has a hard head, he's fine."

Goku, demonstrating this point with a skill unique only to him in the meanwhile, snatched up a large fish out of the river, laughing in excitement at the catch as he did.

Vegeta didn't appear to know what to make of that, eyes shifting between the woman and the other Saiyan. "I…see," he managed, clearing his throat.

(He still seemed bashful despite the insistence on being formal.)

"Fine, then…tell me about the witch." His tail wiggled a little, but didn't move away from her hold after she finished with dressing the bite.

She wasn't sure what either of them were waiting for, Bulma glanced at him for a beat as she experimentally glided her fingers across the fur of Vegeta's tail. "Well…" She reflected on the strangeness of the situation again and how soft the fur was though Vegeta assuredly had not had a bath since leaving the palace. "Baba is…"

Much to her surprise, Vegeta listened attentively while Bulma described every little thing that made Baba the worst but unfortunately useful at the same time. Something about the way he watched her as she talked felt…nostalgic. It brought her back to the times in her faded memories.

* * *

He just liked hearing her voice. He couldn't explain it. Bulma was passionately ranting about the miser of a witch, waving her hands and making expressions that _almost_ brought a smile to his face.

Almost. Until he remembered monkeys couldn't smile and, if they were showing their teeth, that usually meant they were being threatening.

Most importantly, Bulma was talking to him, she wasn't looking at him with disgust and avoiding him. Kakarot wasn't being a nuisance and interfering either, or making annoying comments. Vegeta would never tell Bulma what they were fighting about—honestly, it was quite stupid, the clown had teased him about monkey grooming habits. And…other things.

* * *

_There is no way I'm mentioning what other asinine garbage Kakarot spouted about, he's wrong anyway! He's wrong and a fool!_

* * *

"I don't know what she'll ask for exactly," Bulma's voice broke into his thoughts, bringing Vegeta back to reality. "I guess I'll have to worry about that when we get there."

"If it's money she wants, I can take care of it," Vegeta offered. "You're not well off, after all."

"Wow, thanks, asshole," she scoffed. "Not all of us can be affluent emperors."

"…No, you can't," he responded, blinking owlishly. "Of course you can't, I was born into royalty and you weren't."

Weirdly, her composure of annoyance broke at that and Bulma sputtered, laughing uproariously at his comment.

Now Vegeta was even _more_ confused. Why was she laughing at him?!

* * *

_Does she think I'm joking around?! I'm certainly not!_

* * *

While Vegeta wanted to look proper and offended, he looked more like a pouting child as he crossed his arms and looked away from her, tail lashing. "I fail to see what's so amusing, you blasted peasant."

"It's _you_!" she gasped, clutching at her stomach, "You're so _clueless_! No shit I wasn't born into royalty!"

"It's not my fault I'm—"

Vegeta stopped, grinding his teeth together when he remembered, yes, in fact—it _was_ his fault that he was completely clueless. But she didn't have to _laugh_ at him. It was humiliating enough not _knowing_ anything.

"Okay…okay…" Bulma breathed, trying to get herself back under control. "Sorry…geez, I needed that."

Something strange and a little awkward happened then: Vegeta looked up and made eye contact with Bulma. He saw her flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, the genuine _joy_ she was expressing even in his presence and he felt…

Happy.

He was happy? Was that a thing? It certainly wasn't a thing he was _used_ to, but it wasn't something he minded as much as he thought he would.

* * *

 _It's not like I thought I would_ explode _or something if I was ever happy. Really! It's just…euuugh, it's_ weird _._

* * *

 _  
_Maybe…this was his chance to start things over? He shifted, tail swaying back and forth as he considered what he should say next.

Little did he know, while he was opening his mouth, Bulma seemed to be considering a few things herself.

"Bulma—"

"Emperor—"

Vegeta winced. "Don't."

He might have had all the emotional and social grace of a dead fish, but even he could tell that she was purposefully using his title and not his name to distance herself. "Please," Vegeta struggled with disgust at himself for _begging_ of all things, "We're not _strangers_. Call me by my _name_."

"You used to complain that I didn't call you _prince_ enough," Bulma responded with a wry smile, voice strangely small for someone as loud and brash as her. "And you used to be taller than me."

Oh, he remembered, by a head. Bulma would tease him that anybody with a forehead as large as his _would_ only be a head taller. He had to resist the urge to smile back, not get distracted from what he wanted to say. "I want to start over, Bulma," Vegeta firmly stated.

"Vegeta," Bulma shot back with equal firmness. "We _can't_. Things can't be like how they were before. Imagine if I took you up on your offer and we restarted Capsule Corp. in the Capital—maybe we start hanging out like before. What will people say? They'd think I'm your _special friend_."

Vegeta blinked, not quite understanding the implication. "But you would be my fr—"

"—Like the kind of friends who have sex, Vegeta."

Oh. _Oh!_ He cringed, turning away, feeling his face burning like _embarrassing fire_. "Erm…w…well…" _Would that be such a bad thing?_ a bolder decidedly _unwelcome_ part of him wanted to say. "I suppose that would be bad for my reputation," he admitted.

A mistake.

A puff of a sigh from Bulma only answered him before he heard the crunching noises of her leaving.

* * *

 _I'm such an idiot. That shouldn't have felt as_ horrible _as it did. Why do I feel bad?!_

_Let's see if Nappa is doing any better—_

* * *

Nappa was doing somewhere in the neighborhood of worse at that moment.

Albeit, he was unaware of his charge completely failing at trying to rekindle a friendship due to his own self-absorbed antics and would have been disappointed if he knew, but driving Frieza around while he complained was quite irritating.

Dodoria and Zarbon were fighting over what radio station they should listen to, only adding to Nappa's annoyance.

"I have to think of something to say to Vegeta when I kill him that perfectly encapsulates cruel irony," Frieza was talking aloud.

Nappa, unseen by him, rolled his eyes. Cruel irony? Was that really necessary? Vegeta had suffered enough cruel irony in his life—hell, he was suffering it even without realizing it the day before on his own birthday. Nappa played dumb about the visitors to the Palace, but _he_ certainly recognized the woman as Bulma fucking Briefs herself— _that hair color was pretty distinct!_ He was shocked that _Vegeta_ didn't recognize her, things probably would have been _much_ less dramatic if he did.

Alas, Nappa thought with regret, Vegeta's own depression and bitterness buried him so much he could no longer even recognize people that meant a lot to him.

Maybe, wherever he was, he would run into her again and actually _realize_ the truth. Maybe he could be happy. That would be nice. Vegeta deserved a little spark of happiness in his life after the misery that plagued him since his childhood.

"Nappa!" Frieza screeched, cutting into his thoughts. "Watch those bumps in the road!"

"What bumps?" Nappa serenely responded, driving over as many bumps as possible.

* * *

_Well, that was boring. Nappa's hopes are stupid and I clearly screwed them all up now, Frieza is a freak, Zarbon and Dodoria fight like an old married trouple (that's the term, right?)_

* * *

_Bulma didn't talk to me the rest of the trip, thanks for asking, it_ sucked _._

* * *

Indeed, Bulma didn't talk to him for the rest of the time. She only spoke curtly to Goku about what Vegeta said and told him trying to salvage anything was pointless. Vegeta was ashamed of her, more concerned with his reputation that—god forbid—people might think he was romantic with a _peasant_. It was stupid that she was even hurt by it, she had _known_ that it would be the case, it was why she brought up the idea in the first place.

Yet…some part of her had been hoping that maybe he would say he didn't _care_ what people would think about them.

Yeah, right. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.

There was nothing there to salvage anymore and either Vegeta could pull his head out of his ass and realize the ball had been passed to him (unlikely) or they could just…forget it. Forget it all, like they had the first time around.

She hadn't realized she was shaking until she felt Goku's hand on her wrist, prompting her to look up into his concerned eyes.

"Hey, Bulma," he said softly. "Why don't I drive the rest of the way?"

"…Okay," she sighed, shifting the car to a stop so she could get out and change places with Goku. She walked past the side Vegeta was sitting on, realizing he was watching her through the window and avoiding eye contact with him. She didn't want to burst into tears in front of him.

_Vegeta had always hated it when I started crying…it freaked him out…_

Subsequently, he would try to make it better somehow because—obviously—he was going to be the Emperor of _the world_ and he couldn't have any of his people unhappy. _"And—you're more important than_ normal _people,"_ he would insist every time.

 _Not anymore, am I?_ a cynical thought occurred to her.

 _You never were,_ another thought occurred.

She stubbornly avoided eye contact with Vegeta or Goku when she placed herself in the passenger seat, looking out the window, holding back tears as if her life depended on it.

* * *

Kakarot was disturbingly quiet when they next stopped after the two switched places, Bulma had gone ahead already with a brisk pace into the witch's house, leaving the men in the car.

Vegeta knew what was coming. It was something that would be emotional bullshit and he didn't want to confront it, especially since Kakarot had an _eerie_ way of being an idiot but inexplicably _wise_ at the same time. He squirmed in his seat, trying to find a way out of his belt before—

"You know, Emperor," Kakarot said in a strangely distant tone. "That wasn't a very nice thing you said to Bulma."

"…But it was the truth," Vegeta half-heartedly tried to defend himself.

Kakarot turned an uncharacteristically _steely_ gaze to him then, freezing Vegeta in his spot.

"I told Bulma that she should try to give bein' friends a chance again, and ya _threw it back in her face_ by just worryin' about _yourself_."

Heedless of Vegeta's wince, or seeing and just ignoring it, the man continued: "Someday, you're gonna be all alone, Emperor." Kakarot unbuckled his belt and opened the door, leaving him with a parting comment of: "And you'll have nobody to blame but yourself."

And then Vegeta was left on his own, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"But I'm already alone," he mumbled to himself. "What difference does it make…?"

* * *

_I…_

_I don't have to explain myself to you peons at_ all _._

 _We're moving_ swiftly _on to meeting the witch now._

* * *

Vegeta didn't know what to make of Baba after the fuss of walking in awkward silence through her _large_ dome-shaped house. She was a squat, wrinkled little potato of a woman with a disgusting stringy mop of pink hair, dressed in an _extremely_ stereotypical witch outfit of a black robe and conical hat. Ridiculous. Worse yet, she:

  1. Already knew what was going on and bluntly told Bulma to save it
  2. Had an equally ugly alien of a _husband_ (he thought?) named Bibidi ( _what kind of ridiculous name is that?!_ )
  3. Had a son named _Babadi_ and Vegeta did _not_ want to know how in the hell they had _children_
  4. Had a couple of freakish _servants_ that were ghosts or demons or—ugh, he could barely stomach any of it! 



* * *

_This should justify never leaving the Palace again!_

* * *

"That's part of your _problem_ , Emperor," Baba snorted at him. "That you're a wuss whose response to difficulties is retreating into your little _man cave_."

"My _what_?" Vegeta squeaked, standing up as straight as he could, balling his fists. "How _dare_ you!"

The witch clicked her tongue dismissively, turning to her absurdly ugly alien husband and alien son. "This is an easy curse to reverse, our son could do it with his eyes closed and _he's_ an imbecile."

"Well, thanks, Mother," Babadi muttered.

* * *

_It's like they're calling each other by family titles just to spite me! It's disgusting!_

* * *

"Okay, then do it," Bulma cut into Vegeta's distress with a dull tone. "Take the curse off of him."

"Tuh! Insolent girl!" Bibidi scoffed, sweeping aside her statement with a dramatic gesture. "Magic isn't as easy as _do this do that_ —it's a give and take!"

"So essentially you're saying, pay you," Bulma responded.

"…No, actually," the alien man said, shifting uncomfortably. "While it would be easy to remove the curse, it would be equally easy for Emperor Vegeta to ruin it for himself—he seems fond of self-sabotage."

(Bulma and Kakarot muttered agreements despite Vegeta glaring at the both of them.)

Vegeta crossed his arms, turning his stern glare to the magical family. " _Well_? Then what's your _take_ that you want from me?"

Baba opened her mouth, closed it when her family turned a look to her, then spoke again: "Boy. The conditions of this counter-spell will be as follows: You will have your natural form back, but only at night. Your natural form will only be permanent when a sacrifice is made."

"I volunteer Kakarot," Vegeta piped up.

"—A _genuine, voluntary, selfless sacrifice out of love_."

"Damn."

* * *

 _Well…in that case…I'm stuck in a reverse werewolf scenario forever, aren't I? …Dammit. How could this get any_ worse _?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone has a good week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta finally realizes he has to be less of an asshole and makes a couple of painful confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanation for this, here it is.

There Vegeta was.

At night.

Back in his natural form.

Alone.

More accurately, alone sat on the bed of a guest room in a capsule house Bulma had set up. Bulma and Kakarot themselves had gone to get dinner.

Without him. Leaving him to stew in his own thoughts about the witch's caveat in permanently breaking Frieza's curse.

 _A sacrifice._ Genuine, voluntary, selfless, out of _love_.

Well, he was stuck then, _nobody_ cared that much about him and _he_ didn't care that much about anybody.

Despite that, the term _sacrifice_ worried him immensely—he didn't _want_ any sacrificing happening, not on his part, it sounded painful. He didn't want anyone getting hurt on _his_ behalf either, deep down in the soft part of him that Vegeta wouldn't acknowledge.

 _You care about_ Bulma _that much,_ his sentimental side scolded him. _If it was between—_

 _STOP it,_ his crueler self emerged to shield him from any softness he might acknowledge. _If I have to remain a monkey by day and a man by night forever, then so be it. I will never sacrifice my position as Emperor for some confounding_ woman _._

In fact, why was he still there? Vegeta wondered and wondered what was keeping him there. He didn't have any reason for staying. He should leave the bumpkins and head back himself.

Yet, Vegeta didn't move. He wondered if Bulma would worry about where he had gone. He worried himself about getting lost.

Vegeta slapped his hands to his face, rubbing at it impatiently (feeling, with some relief, yes he still had bare skin and no fur).

* * *

_It just sucked. It all sucked and I hated just sitting there._

* * *

Thus, the Emperor pushed himself up from the bed and walked to the mirror hanging on the wall. With some uncertainty, Vegeta examined his reflection.

There he was, a man—short to average in height, reasonably fit despite there being no reason for him to be (but he had to occupy his time _somehow_ ), olive-skinned despite never going outside, narrowed black eyes framed by stern equally black eyebrows. If he tilted his head a little, auburn highlights would catch in his otherwise pitch black hair that stood straight up in a shape reminiscent of flames. He looked like his father but…not, at the same time. He was in no way the same man his father was, as he often told himself. Vegeta looked exhausted, as usual, but…an _un_ usual air of melancholy hung over him now—had he not noticed it before? Or was it recent? Was it guilt? Depression? Regret?

"Hey," a voice interrupted Vegeta's musings, causing him to snap his gaze back up to Bulma standing in the doorway. Her posture wasn't relaxed, not around him, yet…she seemed to be studying him.

Fair enough, considering he was studying _her_ right back. "Yes?" he responded, trying to pretend he wasn't openly taking in Bulma's…details. _What the hell is_ wrong _with me?_ he scolded himself. Yes, _okay_ , he got it—his old friend from childhood had grown up into a beautiful woman. That didn't mean he needed to be a _creep_.

"Goku and I brought back food," she answered, indicating the space behind her. "There's plenty, you can get some whenever."

"Oh. All right." Vegeta shifted a little, eyes drifting away from his bizarre fixation to—"I was, err…thinking I wanted to have a shower."

 _Oh, god, a shower would be_ fantastic.

"Ah," said Bulma, gesturing to the dresser in the room. "There should be some old clothes in there that can fit you."

Vegeta bristled almost immediately at the idea of _changing his clothes_. Whatever for? He wasn't some _common peasant._ He—

—Noticed Bulma wrinkling her nose while looking at him.

Oh. _Oh_. Much to his horror and shame, he felt his cheeks burning as he turned away. Right. His clothes assuredly stunk. But…he didn't…he hadn't worn much besides his regalia in his entire life, how would he…?

Bulma closed the door to the room before he could ask any questions about what to do.

* * *

_Yes, of course, because it makes sense to ask_ Bulma _about dressing myself in regular clothes. Right. I may as well have asked her to_ dress _me! Ugh!_

* * *

Vegeta's mood failed to improve even after he had washed in the _very_ welcome hot water—thankfully finding that there were soaps available that weren't strongly scented and there was a clean bathrobe.

His next task…Vegeta set his mouth in a grim line as he with some confusion sorted through the various unfamiliar articles of clothing. "Eugh—" he grumbled, holding up a luridly _pink_ shirt with the bold letters stating **BADMAN** on the back.

"Aw, you'd look _adorable_ in that~" Bulma's mocking teasing tone sounded from behind him, prompting a yelp from him and dropping the shirt.

"Can't you _knock_?!" he shot back, pulling the robe tighter to himself.

"Geez, chill out," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stepped into the room and began to sort through the clothes herself. "You looked like you had no idea what to do, so I figured I needed to help out a bit."

"I'm not wearing the pink shirt!" Vegeta exclaimed automatically, still stubbornly holding the robe closed.

"Wasn't gonna suggest it," Bulma said calmly, pulling out a dark red tank top. "As _adorable_ as it would be, it'd draw too much attention to you should we go out—and, well, your hair is already a big duh about who you are."

Vegeta, having no snappy comeback for that, remained silent as she set aside the tank with a pair of underpants and dark-colored jeans. "Pajamas," she said pointing at grey sweatpants and a blue tank she had also set aside (pointedly ignoring him muttering that he _knew_ what pajamas were). "You should probably change into those for tonight." She pointed to the second set. "This is for just in case we ever travel at night. I'll leave you to it." And, without another word, Bulma left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"My hair isn't as distinct as _yours_ ," he muttered, too late to have it be a proper retort, sullenly pulling on the clothes.

It took less time than it did to put on and remove his regalia, and yet…Vegeta examined himself in the mirror again. It still didn't feel like _himself_. The slippers were…comfortable but felt a little…goofy on him. Surely nobody would take the Emperor seriously if he was wearing _slippers_? As for the tank…

He sort of stared at himself in confused half-wonderment. He wasn't used to exposing so much skin, he didn't know how to feel about it—what if someone walked in right at that moment? Would they think he looked ridiculous? Would they judge him? A stupid thought occurred to Vegeta to ask Bulma what she thought, then he reminded himself they weren't…on the best terms and there was something…lewd about asking how he looked.

_What am I, some common thug that flexes and tries to impress women? Absolutely not!_

Vegeta pulled himself away from any musings about his appearance, looking down in confusion at the pile of his regalia left behind before deciding he would fold them and set them onto the dresser. Something felt right about doing something so innocuous, like he had some manner of control even on the limited time he had in his proper body.

* * *

"He's been takin' a while…" Goku said absently whilst he was eating his fifth box of dumplings. "Y'want me to go check on 'im?"

Bulma knew why he was asking, he had apologized for pushing the idea of giving Vegeta a second chance, leading to her getting hurt. He didn't need to apologize, she already knew she would have gotten hurt, but she didn't need Vegeta. Not anymore. "He can take care of himself," she replied with a dismissive shrug.

As if on cue, Vegeta slumped into the dining room, stubbornly maintaining _no_ eye contact with either of them while he grabbed a couple of containers to work through.

They both noticed, but did not bring up, that he hesitated with how to open the containers and even what would be inside.

Bulma glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Well.

She still didn't know what to make of him. Vegeta the man was different from Vegeta the boy and even Vegeta the monkey in a lot of ways. If she forgot that he was an asshole, she would have almost thought he was handsome.

Almost.

All Bulma felt as she looked at him was cold pain and bitterness.

Silence hung over the three as they ate, broken up only by Bulma and Goku discussing their travel route. Goku surmised that it should only take another day until they made it back to the Capital. "But then…" he trailed off, scratching at his hair, "I dunno what we're gonna do next. There's still Frieza…"

"You don't have to deal with him at all," Vegeta cut in brusquely. "Once you've brought me back to the Palace, your role has ended. It's my responsibility what happens next."

"Geez, Emperor," Goku sighed, "We can't just leave ya to it on your own! What if it's daytime when we get back? What if he's got weapons and stuff?"

"Spare me the false concern," Vegeta scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You get your nowhere singing mountainside left in peace and I go back to the Palace, I will deal with Frieza."

 _That's enough,_ Bulma thought, standing up and leaving the room. _I can't stand to hear this anymore_. "Good night, Goku," she tossed over her shoulder before slamming the door to her bedroom.

 _That's fine. This is fine. I'm fine,_ she told herself. She told herself that she would be fine and she just needed to go to bed and get some rest. She shouldn't devote anymore thoughts to what was going on with the whole situation as it stood.

Unfortunately, Bulma could only dissolve into tears in the lonely darkness of her room.

 _What is_ wrong _with me?!_ her thoughts screamed in frustration as she buried herself under her covers and into her pillows. _Why does it hurt so much?!_

* * *

A longer silence hung over those left behind.

Kakarot's face hardened as the minutes ticked by, Vegeta found himself shifting uncomfortably.

"I…" he began, looking down at his hands clasped together. "I should…leave."

"Don't be an idiot," Kakarot's uncharacteristically curt tone answered back. "Where would you even go? You don't know the way and we would only worry about you."

"Don't _lie_ to me!" Vegeta sneered, anger overpowering his regret in a hot flash. "My being here is only hurting _her_ and you know it! You both hate me, and you very well should!"

"Do you love her?" Kakarot asked, bypassing any of Vegeta's answer with a serious stare.

"Wh…what—h-how _dare_ you—"

Love? When did _love_ end up part of the situation? He certainly didn't know! He wasn't going to answer that! It was a foolish question for empty-headed sentimental—

"You say we should hate you. But you're also saying you should leave, you should take all your problems onto yourself, you want to avoid hurting Bulma more than you already have. That sure sounds like a guy that loves somebody to me." Kakarot tilted his head with an almost sardonic look in his eyes. "But what do I know, I guess, I'm just a country bumpkin, huh?"

"Dammit…" he growled, split between just yelling at Kakarot to shut up and running away entirely. "You just don't…you don't understand…"

"No, I don't," he admitted. "I wouldn't be able to put myself in your shoes by a longshot, I don't know what all it means to have the kinda responsibility you do. I don't know what it's like to lose people like you have. But I know what it's like to care about people, and you know it too even if you don't wanna own up to that."

Much to Vegeta's confusion, Kakarot smiled at him like he knew a secret, like he cared—but he _couldn't_ have cared.

"So…let's pretend you didn't wanna just run away right now," he said. "What do you _really_ wanna do?"

Vegeta squirmed, looking away from the earnest _clown_ , _knowing_ that his face was certainly lit up _red_ at that moment. "I want to…go after her."

"See? There ya go!" Kakarot clapped his hand ( _very much not a welcome gesture!)_ onto Vegeta's shoulder. "Then what're ya waitin' for? Go for it!"

He opened his mouth to argue, Kakarot's face changing back into a serious expression silenced him immediately. "But I'm warning you, Vegeta, if you make her cry again I'll make you pay for it."

Well…he couldn't exactly _argue_ with that, he? Vegeta didn't _want_ to make Bulma cry…but…

He shouldn't be trying, he thought even as he drifted down the path Bulma had gone. He shouldn't be there, he thought as he stood outside her door. Hadn't Vegeta caused enough problems? Therefore, logically, he should say screw Kakarot's threat and screw his own guilt.

Yet…Vegeta remained standing there, hand hovering over the doorknob, caught between two conflicting desires: don't make the pain worse and take the pain away.

"Bulma," he said in a tone so soft it almost was unrecognizable to him when he opened the door to a dark room.

No response at first, except for the lump on the bed shifting a little.

"Hasn't anybody told you it's rude to come into a lady's room without knocking?" her muffled voice eventually came.

The shadow of a smile flickered onto Vegeta's face, the huff of a whispered laugh. "It was fine when we were children, and you're hardly a lady," he retorted.

A fact which, honestly, didn't bother Vegeta in any manner whatsoever. He _had_ met "proper" ladies, the carefully bred and groomed upper class—he couldn't stand them. They knew nothing and cared for nothing but class and status. Hypocritical of him to despise, perhaps, since he went on about class himself ( _since you chased away Tarble with your talks about class…_ ) but in actuality, Vegeta never cared. He hadn't been raised with the notion by his parents, they had no issue with mixing company in such a way. In fact, they said it was better for the two princes to understand and relate to everyone regardless of their position in society.

Bulma had never treated them as the princes herself, she only saw them as Vegeta and Tarble, her friends. She saw them as they were.

When she died, Vegeta knew he would never meet someone like that again. At least, if he could help it he would never meet someone—or _anyone_ again that might get under his _skin_ and get ripped away as she had. She was gone.

But…there she was. Still alive, still seeing him for who he really was (even if she wouldn't admit it).

There _he_ was, in turn, sitting on the edge of her bed, semi-blindly reaching to rest a hand on the lump in the blankets (hoping it wasn't somewhere inappropriate). She stiffened at the contact, then relaxed, which meant it must have been all right.

"Before, you said that the entire time you had been missing me without realizing it," Vegeta began, his voice almost quiet enough to be entirely swallowed by the darkness. "I missed you, too," he finally admitted to her the words he held locked in his heart for years, scarred by pain and loneliness. "I couldn't bear to face a world without you in it, Bulma."

"So you hid," she responded, voice muffled by the blanket. "That's not what I…I _know_ that's not what I wanted for you."

"Yes, but…"

A dry chuckle interrupted him, she emerged from her blanket roll to stare up at him with oddly shiny eyes.

 _She's been crying,_ the part of him that wasn't an oblivious oaf informed him. Vegeta moved his hand from where it rested to cup Bulma's cheek with a gentleness he had no idea he was capable of. "You said that you should have come find me again after it was safe, but…I should fought to find you. I cowered, instead." Vegeta hardly recognized his own voice, it sounded so raw with emotion, but he wasn't going to stop now. "And now you've been caught up in something that is my own fault and my responsibility. I'm…"

Was he really going to say it? Vegeta swallowed against the lump in his throat, only reassured by Bulma reaching up and touching his hand with her own. The cool, soft feel of it encouraged him to go forward at last and free himself from the burdens he had forced onto himself from a young age. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Bulma. I've been awful. I never wanted to hurt—"

"Shhh—" Bulma pressed the fingers of her free hand to his lips to silence him, smiling faintly. "You're weird, Vegeta," she said, her tone reflecting a fond affection despite what she was saying. "You've always been weird—for a Saiyan, for a royal, but…I've always been weird, too. And we were okay with that."

" _Okay_? I don't much appreciate being called _weird_ ," he grumbled, flushing at the contact.

She giggled, pulling away to regard him, still with that mysterious affection. "I'm going to see this through with you to the end, Vegeta," she said, "I owe you that much. I don't know what sacrifice is needed to break the spell for good, but I'm going to get you back to your home and Frieza won't stop me."

She wasn't lying, he knew. Bulma never lied to him—barring carrying on with acting like she _didn't_ care, of course. Even with insisting it was his responsibility alone, she insisted back that she wasn't going to leave him (again). He felt…warm, sort of floaty, and…happy. Definitely happy.

He also couldn't help but notice how close they were. If he just leaned in…

"—Hey, Bulma, didja have any clothes y'wanted washed? I'm runnin' a load now for Vegeta's stuff and—ohhhhhh…"

* * *

**_GODDAMMIT, KAKAROT._ **

* * *

While steam practically blew out of Vegeta's ears, he could hear Bulma laughing as he turned away and stood up from the bed.

Kakarot, of course, only gave him that goofy smile and waved. "Hi, Vegeta! Sorry, I didn't know you and Bulma were makin' up, my bad!"

 _Yes you_ did _, liar! You were the one who told me to come in here!_ "Get out!" Vegeta snapped. "She needs to sleep!"

"Okaaaay, okay!" Kakarot chuckled, waving his hands as he scooted around out of Vegeta's view for a moment, then circled back around with a small bundle of clothes. "Sorry!" he said before walking out the door.

For a moment.

Until he poked his head back in, still _grinning_ like the insufferable clown he was. "But I was right, right Bulma? _Riiiiiight_?"

 _"GET OUT!"_ they shouted in unison, broken up only by Bulma addressing him as Goku while Vegeta used Kakarot.

He left the pair in silence, laughing all the way like it was one big game to him.

* * *

_Well. That was awkward. But I guess it was probably for the better that we were…erm, interrupted._

_I slept…fine that night, actually._

_…NOT_ WITH _BULMA, you vulgar peons!_

 _In my_ own _room! Geez!_

* * *

Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, by sunrise Vegeta had transformed again. Despite that reminder of disappointment, however, the atmosphere felt lighter than before. No more awkward tension felt _wonderful_ even if he also had to put up with some goofy overly _pleased_ looks from Kakarot.

"I still have to sit in the back?" he piped up when Bulma and Kakarot were packing the car.

"You're still too short to sit in the front Vegeta, sorry," Bulma retorted, sticking out her tongue playfully.

She was sassing him so he should have been mad, yet Vegeta only hid a smirk behind his hands at her antics.

* * *

_Now look, not that it's any of your business that we're getting along again. It's also none of your business that I was thinking about—things, all right?! Just things!_

_Things like…what will I do after all is said and done after all._

_…But that's still none of your business!_

* * *

Somehow, the car had become filled with chatter and a game of asking questions—rather like a game of truth or dare but with only truths instead, if that was even a thing. Vegeta considered the answer he had just given—something silly and inconsequential—and what question he would fire back in return. "Nappa is constantly pressuring me to get married but, no, I never made a point of courting anybody. …What about you?"

Bulma snorted, " _Courting_. Geez, Vegeta, just call it dating—or hooking up, I guess." She ignored him sputtering that he would _not_ call it _hooking up_ since he knew what _that_ implied while she thought it over herself. "No, it's not like I never _wanted_ to or something, but the one guy I was ever interested in turned out to _not_ be interested in women at all."

"Oh, yeah, we just thought Yamcha was scared of girls," Kakarot added. "Turns out he was just into guys."

That wasn't so odd to Vegeta, it wasn't like gender truly mattered to him. Still, she was…interested in men like _Yamcha_? He thought about the scarred fool that smiled too much and didn't seem to have enough common sense to fill a spoon and was…glad that Bulma had never stooped to _that_. "Then which one was he with, Kakarot's brother or the three-eyed one?"

There was a cough of surprise before Bulma and Kakarot simultaneously burst into laughter, confusing Vegeta immensely. "What? Don't tell me that—"

" _Both_ ," Bulma wheezed.

 _Oh wow_.

Both? _Both?!_ Vegeta could hardly muster up the patience to deal with _one_ person, how in the world would anyone be able to balance _two_? Suddenly he wasn't comfortable with _that_ line of questioning again and sidestepped it with: "Kakarot, it's your turn."

"Oh, uhhh, let's see…" Kakarot pretended to think it over for a moment (pretended because Vegeta held doubts that Kakarot ever had a genuine thought in his head). "Say, Vegeta, where did your brother go anyway?"

Of all the pea-brained thoughts that could have rattled around in Kakarot's empty skull, why did it have to be _that_ one?! Vegeta could feel himself grinding his teeth, tail lashing—not out of anger, much to his surprise, but…

"It was my fault, all right?" he ground out, voice quiet with shame. "Is that what you wanted to hear? That it was _my_ fault Tarble ran away?"

Kakarot started, turning back to him. "Well…no…Vegeta—"

"Save it, you don't need to apologize or whatever," Vegeta huffed, stubbornly (a little childishly) crossing his arms and turning away. "It was my fault—he fell in love with a Tech-Tech female and I…said atrocious things."

Fortunately, he didn't have to spell out the entire thing and be forced to recount the whole painful conversation. It repeated enough in his memories as it stood—that horrible day when he _told_ Tarble that he wasn't allowed to see Gure anymore and how inappropriate it was for a _prince_ to be with a lesser lifeform. Tarble's usually gentle, warm gaze turned cold that time—he didn't speak to Vegeta then, and…never again. All he left was a note with contact information and a courteous _visit whenever you like, Brother_.

He didn't realize when it happened, Kakarot had pulled over the vehicle and Bulma had moved to the backseat with him, he didn't notice until she embraced him.

How long had it been since he was held by somebody? Years, if he had to guess. All he could do was sink into her arms in a boneless slump, sighing. "I haven't had the courage to…"

To contact his younger brother, to say sorry, to say he wanted him to come back.

"…At any rate, he ran away. He said if he couldn't be with the one he loved as a prince then he just wouldn't be a prince at all. Smart-mouthed little shit," he rasped, a harsh chuckle accompanying his bitter statement. "He was always…smart. And a little shit."

"It runs in the family," Bulma commented.

For once, Vegeta didn't have a snappy remark in return, he only grunted and buried his face in the crook of Bulma's arm.

* * *

_Not her chest! I told you, peons! I'm not a_ pervert _!_

* * *

"I bet—"

Bulma interrupted whatever brainless thing Kakarot was undoubtedly going to say by shaking her head at him, which Vegeta wouldn't admit he was grateful for. He already knew that he was going to have to stop being a wimp and reconnect with Tarble on his own.

(Though he did wonder if Tarble had been informed that he had "died"…)

"Uhhhh—well," Kakarot fired the car back to life again, trying to change the subject, "Bulma? Your turn."

"I don't want to play anymore," Vegeta heard Bulma mumble, not quite caring about the game himself and more about drifting off to sleep while being held by her.

* * *

_Don't judge me, you peons, I was_ tired _, all right?!_

* * *

"It makes me awful sad," Goku said after a rather long, long awkward silence.

Bulma hummed, running her fingers through Vegeta's now-hair since the sun had set during the awkward wait for someone to speak first. "Yeah…me, too. Tarble was a nice kid."

It was a whole string of unfortunate events for Vegeta, it seemed; first her family disappeared, then his parents were killed, forcing him to take the throne at 17 only for his grief and anger to chase away his last living family member. It made her wonder if there was anything she could do to ease his pain—she couldn't force him to make amends with his brother, though, he had to do that on his own.

 _You could always take him up on his offer and take the job,_ a thought urged her.

Wishful thinking, her cynicism shot back. Bulma Briefs was a lot of things, good and bad, but she was _not_ a servant and—if things between her and Vegeta escalated _that_ much—she was nobody's _consort_. People could call that egotistical if they wanted, but Bulma fucking Briefs would _never_ settle for anything of the sort whether or not she loved the person involved.

That was another thing to confront—did she love Vegeta? It was an absurd idea, compared to how they knew each other as children, a lot of things had changed, and she would need much more time to get to know him again than the space of a few days. This was hardly a fairy tale.

Yet, when she looked down at Vegeta, sleeping in her arms, something about him felt like…home. Frightening though it was, when Bulma looked at Vegeta she could actually imagine spending the rest of her life by his side even if she couldn't be _with_ him.

_I still don't even know what "sacrifice" is needed to break the spell._

* * *

_Pffft—you're not the only one, Bulma._

_What? You peons already knew that I was still here even if I'm asleep, idiots._

* * *

Vegeta stirred, realizing that that someone was holding him and he didn't mind that feeling at all. Bulma had dozed off herself, resting against him.

Home. He had the feeling of home with her. He wanted to capture that feeling and keep it alive forever—but especially for the days when it was most difficult and lonely being the Emperor.

_But…_

"Hey, Vegeta?" Kakarot's annoying voice interrupted his musings.

"What, clown," Vegeta grunted.

"You still want Bulma to come back with you, huh?"

As much as Vegeta wanted to remain stubbornly silent, to deny it, he couldn't. At the same time, he couldn't summon up the courage to answer until he looked at Bulma to make _sure_ she was still asleep and wouldn't hear him. "Yes…" he finally admitted in a quiet voice. "I…"

"Well, maybe she'll say yes this time!" Kakarot chirped, ignoring Vegeta immediately shushing him to not be so damned _loud_ lest he wake Bulma up. "I guess if you're worried, you can just do what Chi-Chi did."

"…And…what was that?" Vegeta asked, knowing deep down he really _didn't_ want to know what the headstrong princess of Fire Mountain might have done to make sure Kakarot never left her side.

"She challenged me to a fight and said I had to marry her if she won."

It took all of Vegeta's willpower to not sputter and scream that he was _never_ going to do something as absurd as challenging Bulma to a _fight_. "A-and I'm not going t-t-to—to—pro _pose_!" he squeaked. "D-don't be _absurd_ , Kakarot, _I can't_!"

"Wha-? But why _not_?"

Was he _joking_? Vegeta growled, swiping his hand through his hair in frustration. "B-because I'm…b…because _she's_ —"

Kakarot frowned. _Oh wonderful._ "This again…? Vegeta, seriously?"

"Don't sass _me_ , Kakarot! Th-there are rules!"

Kakarot growled—actually _growled_ —in frustration, "Oh come _on_! _You're_ the Emperor, you _make_ the rules!"

"Th-that's not true at all, i-it means I must adhere to traditions!" Vegeta argued, his voice uncharacteristically high-pitched in an attempt to remain at a lower volume so he wouldn't wake Bulma. "Not _change_ them! I can't just _change_ things—what would that do to my reputation?!"

Kakarot groaned, lightly thumping the dashboard in annoyance. "Look…I get respectin' tradition, but—let's just pretend I didn't say anythin' about marriage for a sec. Aren't there rules that are technically still in the books but you don't enforce anymore? I'm pretty sure y'all used to have a torture chamber under the Palace!"

Vegeta cringed, thinking of the old tools of torture that had been in place during his great-grandfather's rule, a man he had never met and—suitably—that his grandfather, Vegeta the second, swept the memory of aside. _"We don't need these things,"_ it was agreed unanimously. _"We should be making room for progress, not tyranny."_

"Well…"

Yes, all of what Kakarot was saying was true, _technically_ , but…

Abruptly, the car was stopped, Vegeta tightened his grip on Bulma to be sure she didn't jerk too much and wake up. An eerie yet foreboding silence filled the space until Kakarot spoke again: "I think, deep down, you're scared of change. You're scared of not bein' _proper_ and all that. But…"

 _Oh please don't say what I think you're going to say,_ he frantically thought.

"Vegeta, you _aren't_ proper, you're not just a stick in the mud that goes by all the rules! You _want_ there to be change and deep down inside ya, there's a whole lotta change just waitin' to happen!"

 _Of course!_ The absolute _last_ thing Vegeta ever wanted _anybody_ to know and a _country bumpkin Saiyan like him_ of all people figured it out! How in blazes had this _fool_ ever guessed the times Vegeta spent watching how things proceeded the "proper" way and thought about how it made little sense. The times when he observed Frieza and thought _something else_ needed to be done about him, that he was given too much leeway. The times he pushed Nappa and his ridiculous binder of marriage candidates away and thought, why are there so many _rules_ to what _the Emperor_ must adhere to? Was this really his fate—to have things decided for him by some bland template of rules and the chains of the past?

Hell—his whole nonsensical trip thus far had been the most excitement he had in _years_ , it was certainly nothing he would have been able to do just on a whim without the attempted murder on Frieza's part. Did Kakarot catch on that Vegeta didn't actually want the whole thing to _end_ , leaving him to go back to his duties and his shell of an existence?

He couldn't. He just couldn't. "I…I _need_ to be a proper Emperor," he said hoarsely. "I owe that to my people." A debt Vegeta had owed before he was even old enough to be considered fully a man, at that. "And if Bulma was a part of that life…"

Wouldn't she be just as miserable as he was?

"…She would make the best of it," Kakarot countered his thoughts and concerns, turning to look at him with a lopsided grin. "She always does. And heck, I think people would _love_ the new Emperor that doesn't shut himself away in his Palace and his Empress who doesn't take crap from nobody, right?"

 _Empress. Empress. Empress Bulma—_ my _Bulma, my Empress—oh man, oh geez…_ It was a thought Vegeta almost couldn't bear with how much it flustered him, he was certain if Kakarot hadn't turned back right then he would see that his face had become entirely red.

* * *

_I need to immediately divert this topic to something else!_

_"Hey, Vegeta, are you talkin' to yourself?"_

* * *

"No, I'm not. Shut up, Kakarot."

"Oh, okay." Kakarot drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before speaking again: "Hey, you wanna stop somewhere to eat? If we turn off the path here we'll stop off at Pilaf's."

"Yeahsurewhatever."

* * *

_I don't really care_ where _that clown drives us now as long as he doesn't say_ that _to me ever again!!_


End file.
